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r; 

[EL SEKIES No. 40. PKIOE 25 CENTS, 

idsummer Diversion. 

^gicheJo/.^ 

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BACHELORS and BUTTERFLIES, 


A Midsummer Diversion. 


BY 


ALLIS ARNOULD, Wc. 


‘*Oh, spread your nets, ye wise and sly, 
To catch the bee and butterfly ; 

And lajr yoiir toils, ye wily men, 

F or niaidens flit, and — flit again I . . 
-Till time and tide and circumstance ' 
Shall bring the Iiappy hour, perchance, 
Whon maid and bee and butterfly 
Sliall, captured, prove your constancy.’* 



. NEW YORK: 

W. B. SMITH & CO., 

Bond Street. 



\ 






Copyright, 1882. 

By W. B. Smith & Co., New York. 


4 '■ 


• I 

A' ■* 



f 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES, 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION. 


FJLRT I. 

1 . 

“They come, they come, the Greek, the Greek! ” 

Breezy, dull-green rolling downs, surrounded by a 
sparkling ocean; a billowy land, and a billowy sea — 
such is Montauk, Long Island’s eastern extremity. A 
place attractive from its very loneliness.; presenting 
scenes more like a Scottish moorland than an American 
landscape. 

Almost the only sign of civilization in this solitude 
two years ago was a square, weather-stained house, 
without picturesque angles, facing the sea, and offering 
slight resistance to the stormy winds that swept over 
the dreary waste of land. Neither tree nor shrub shaded 
the low entrance, and the only attempt at brightness 
was a forlorn garden on the sunny side of the house, 
with a border of stunted flowers, marking the line of a 
displaced fence. A few vines had ambitiously climbed 
to the windows, and shaded, with their green, overlap- 
ping leaves, the diminutive squares of glass tliat light- 

3 


4 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES, 


ened a room on the ground floor. This room at the 
present time was filled with weapons, whicli seemed 
little suited to the quietude of the place and its sur- 
roundings. 

Rifles and shotguns were stacked in corners ; car- 
tridge-boxes lay scattered here and there ; a pair of 
pocket pistols reposed upon the mantle-shelf ; and nets, 
fishing-rods, and baskets were hanging on the walls. 
Bottles, pipes and tobacco bags abounded, and, lying 
upon the centre table, dimly seen through wreaths of 
smoke, was a sensiitional novel, some sporting maga- 
zines, and a ‘‘Harper’s Weekly ” of ancient date. 

Outside, all nature glowed Avith the hot rays of the 
August sun, now losing its mid-day power, but more 
richly tinting the Avestern clouds Avith crimson and gold 
before disappearing behind the distant mountains. 

The sea, spreading far and Avide, shone like a bur- 
nished mirror motionless. On the land, the silence, 
and the lack of animation, Avould have oppressed one, 
and suggested the spell of an enchanted sleep, had not 
merry manly voices been heard, in laud discussion issu- 
ing from the house, and eliciting responses from a youth 
who sat upon a bench outside the door, apparently in- 
tent upon preparing the skin of a large fish-haAvk, — a 
trophy of sportsman’s skill on the previous day. 

This youth Was knoAvn among his sporting friends as 
“ the Modoc,” a soubriquet given him from the deter- 
mination he evinced to express his emotions of surprise 
and delight by a series of loud and unearthly cries. In 
moments of excitement “ the Modoc” Avas sure to in- 
dulge in these wild demonstrations, and these, together 
Avith the fantastic style of his costume and manner, sug- 
gested the possibility of a far-off Indian progenitor. 


A MWSUiJnj^B DIVERSION, 


6 


A dilapidated, broad-brimmed straw hat was pushed 
up from his brow, and through the wide rents between 
crown and brim appeared locks of black hair, stiffly 
erect; indeed ‘‘the Modoc’s ” hair was always “ 
investigating,” — so his friends said, — and could no 
more be kept within bounds than the rest of this very 
unconventional young person. 

“ The Modoc ” was attired, as usual, in a fustian 
jacket, replete with pockets — these latter stuffed full of 
his new acquisitions, viz: bird’s eggs, shells, pebbles^ 
and a general assortment of natural curiosities. A pair 
of heavy shoes, much too large, were important features 
in the clog-dance that he executed on every possible 
occasion. Thoroughly good-natured, his merry brown 
eyes would sparkle with fun when ever an opportunity 
offered for a practical joke on his companions. He could 
venture where others dared not tread. One and all ad- 
mired his splendid health and happy temper, and laughed 
at his drolleries. 

Within the bachelor den, vine-shaded, and pleasantly 
cool, four men sat resting and smoking after their social 
dinner. 

The handsomest roan present, both in figure and face, 
was Roger Alliston, commonly called Sir Roger on ac- 
count of his polished manners, and varied social accom- 
plisliments. As a partner in the German, young ladies 
declared he was “superb,” and as a companion after 
the dance “ he was just too fascinating, you know ! ” 

Mr. Moran, a quiet gentleman of about thirty-five or 
forty, seemed the oldest of the group. A retiring na- 
ture, and constant application to business, had allowed 
little time or inclination for fasliionable life. Few 
even of his intimate friends knew the unselfish sacrifice 


6 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES, 


he had made of personal inclination, for the comfort 
and support of a widowed mother and two young 
sisters. 

It was seldom he allowed himself a holiday; now, 
he was “off on a lark,” and he laughed as he caught 
himself using so boyish an expression to describe his 
own pastimes. 

Matrimonial mammas had reached the conclusion 
that “John Moran was an excellent match, but he 
would never take time to fall in love and marry, so 
there was no use wasting any more invitations upon 
him.” 

The third bachelor was a lawyer. Jack Reynolds ; 
who had seen a little service in the army, and thus ac- 
quired the title of “Colonel.” His tastes were at war 
with his avocations, but diligent improvement of inter- 
vals in business had enabled him to hunt bison in Col- 
orado, shoot deer in the Adirondacks and Canadian 
forests, and make sad havoc among the wild ducks of 
Virginia and Carolina. Nothing delighted him more 
than occasional unrestrained enjoyment of this free, 
healthful life on the coast. 

Mr. Norris, a clergyman of liberal views, whose health, 
like many of his profession, often required change, com- 
pleted the group. He appreciated a good story and a 
good joke, and he entered with such hearty sympathy 
into every out-door amusement that he was a most wel- 
come member of the jovial party. The conversation was 
general and growing noisy ; all were talking at once 
about the best gun, the best decoys, the best season, 
and the best shots. 

“Modoc,” called out the Colonel, “havn’t you re- 
duced that bird to first principles yet ? His own mother 


A MIDSUMMJSH 2)TV£BSI-0JV. 


wouldn’t recognize him, — I don’t think she’d know hiih' 
from a boned turkey ! Sir Roger, here, might use him 
for a target, — he fires at nothing^ you know, and this is 
the next thing to it ! ” 

Keep your distance, my gentle friends,” responded 
the Modoc, ‘‘ this ferocious bird may yet strike terror to 
your hearts ! I intend him, when stuffed, as a wedding 
gift to the first one of you who shall venture on the sea 
of matrimony : on that fatal day he shall appear bearing- 
in his beak my compliments from — yours, respectfully, 
&c.” 

“Never, nevermore,” croaked the deep bass voices 
inside ; while the Colonel, springing to his feet in a 
tragic attitude, declaimed, in measured tones, a Shakes- 
perian adaptation of his own : — 

“ To wed, or not to wed, that is the question ; 

Whether ’tis better for a man to suffer 
The desperate loneliness of a single life, 

Or dance around some young and pretty woman, 

. And by attentions win her ? — to wed — to change — 

It may be for the worse ; aye, there’s the rub : ” — 

My friends,” he went on, “realize the rural simplicity 
of our present existence. Here, for a week we have 
led a life that Avould delight the most amiable savage ; 
dust may abound; things lie around, — no resti*aint, — • 
no tobacco-haters, — no moonlight twaddle, — no woman 
within six miles of us,-— except old Mrs. Dobbs, whom 
Heaven preserve as long as she gives us good buck- 
wheat cakes and allows guns and birds on her hall table ! 
Imagine now if a couple of wives should intrude ” — ; 

‘ “ By jove, they have come .^—they’re here ! ” — burst 

put the Modoc, excitedly, as rushing toward the wkb- 


8 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


dow, brandishing his knife, he began a war-dance, ac- 
companied by a series of whoops and yells that would 
have done credit to a young Comanche. 

What is it ? What do you see ? ’’ exclaimed the 
party, as with a bound each sprang to the window, and 
tried to penetrate the mystery through the interlacing 
vine-leaves. 

I think I see — yes, I am sure, in the dim distance 
• — it is — good Heavens, yes, it is ! — a parasol ! ” 

“ The vision is in your brain, Modoc ! The sun has 
been too much for you ! ” rejoined “ Sir Roger,” scorn- 
fully ; while all poured forth a stream of questions and 
surmises. 

I tell you ’tis true ! I saw a ‘ Rockaway ’ filled with 
people coming up the road ! now, the swell of the land 
hides it. I’m sure there was a parasol, and — yes, there 
it is again,— and a green veil, too ! Belongs to the old 
lady, probably. Shouldn’t be sui’prised if there were 
half a dozen children tucked in somewhere, — and a 
nurse^ — and a lap dog, — and a screeching baby,” he 
went an, warming with his subject. 

Whoop, hurrah ! wont there be fun now !” 

A full chorus of dismal groans were uttered by the 
unfortunate bachelors, at these approaching afflictions. 

‘^Perhaps Mrs. Dobbs will not take them in,” sug- 
gested Mr. Moran, ‘‘ she hasn’t much room.” 

‘‘ Oh, yes, she will,” replied the heartless Modoc ; “you 
know she said yesterday, if she had the chance she would 
let that room to boarders, where we keep our fishing- 
tackle and specimens ; and we would have to move 
things out.” 

“ Why on earth do women want to come to such a 
desolate place as this?” moaned the Colonel; “they 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION. 9 

can’t shoot, nor fish, and — of course there’s no one to 
love, — unless it be old Dobbs I I never heard of any 
ladies here before ! ” 

“Come,” said Sir Roger, “these interesting people 
may be a relay of colored washerwomen ! ” 

“ That suit of yours, Modoc, might employ a dozen 
of them for a week steadily! Who knows: we may 
have been slandering angels unawares I ” 

Moran opportunely thought of his field-glass ; con- 
centrating his gaze upon the approaching vehicle, he 
announced that the advancing foe consisted of an old 
gentleman in linen duster, with blue goggles, and a 
broad-brimmed hat ; an elderly lady with an enormous 
shade bonnet that projected like a helmet ; and a young 
lady whose face was concealed by her parasol. Lunch 
baskets and bundles filled the seat by the driver, and a 
long insect net hung, like an immense snap-dragon 
flower, over the dash-board, swinging to and fro in the 
wind. Trunks and camp-chairs piled up behind seemed 
to indicate that the party meant not only to stop, but 
to stay. 

As they were descending the last hill, the horses sud- 
denly came to a halt ; and the elderly gentleman was 
seen to alight hastily from the stage, and seizing the 
gauze net, disappear into a little swamp lying at the 
bottom of a hollow. 

The wind brought the sound of a high rasping voice 
calling energetically, “ Ezra 1 Ezra I ” 

But it had no effect on the retreating naturalist, now 
in full pursuit of a gorgeous butterfly. 

“ There he goes again, for about the twentieth time ! ” 
continued the voice, “ and to stop this way, when we 
are almost there! I should think he had had enough 


10 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES, 


of insects coming over ‘ Napeague Beach,’ where they 
swarmed by the millions ! Avis,” the voice continued 
in ail impressive and resigned tone, ‘‘ if your father lay 
dying, — drawing his last breath, — and a ^darning- 
needle ’ should come in and light on the counterpane^ 
I do believe he would revive sufficiently to seize it, and 
pin it to the foot of the bed. Well, I shan't wait, we 
are so near ! Driver, go on ; we’ll see about the rooms 
and the baggage ! This is an awful lonely looking 
place. Avis, don’t you think so? I’m sure I shan’t like 
it ! What possessed your father to bring us to such a 
spot? nothing but sea and land everywhere. Dear me, 
that looks like a house for pirates ! Just see that skinny 
looking thing hanging up by the door! If we’i’c all 
murdered in our beds some night, your father may 
thank himself for it. 1 don’t believe we will stay more 
tlian one night any way I ” 

The Modoc, on hearing this, began a joyful clog- 
dance, but was immediately suppressed by his wary 
companions. “ Oh, isn’t she a siren of the first water?” 
whispered he. What a voice ! ” 

The vehicle rolled heavily up ; the ladies were depos- 
ited upon the small apology for a porch ; the elderly 
one with much bustle and many voluble expressions to 
Mr. and Mrs. Dobbs, who received them with efi’usion ; 
the younger, a trim, lady-like figure, her face still con^ 
cealed by her veil, was a marked contrast to her mother 
in quietness and dignity. The listening could not 
but acknowledge this second voice was low and singu- 
larly sweet. 

The Professor was now seen toiling up the little hill, 
with his treasure, which he held with the greatest care. 
His face was all aglow with exercise and pleasure ; as 


A MIDStrMMjEn DIVERSION. 11 

Ite passed, they heard him exclaiming in a low tone, 

“ Yes, a real Sesia Pelasgus! and such a fine specimen I 
I shall catch a dozen before I go ! ” 

Meanwhile ‘Vthe Voice” continued a series of ex- 
planations with Mrs. Dobbs, as she led the way into the , 
house : “ I may as well tell you at once that Mr. Lang- 
try’s wife and daughter are nothing to him as long as > 
tliere’s a beetle or spider to be had ; and he is so 
absent-minded ! If he had only attended to the matter , 
in time, you would have known we were coming, and 
received a letter to be prepared for us. The Profes- 
sor said he was sure there would be no one here but 
ourselves.” 

The hall table was strewn with the results of the 
morning’s shooting in the shape of mottled brown and. 
gray birds, and other sportsmen’s trophies. 

Seeing these as she passed, Mrs. Langtry remarked 
in astonishment: “ Why, Mrs. Dobbs, have you other 
boarders? Five bachelom, eh I Avis, do you hear^ 
that ? How much company they’ll be for us I It may 
be very lively, after all,” 

The besieged garrison groaned, and the more, when, 
they heard the voluble dame superintending certain ar- 
rangements up-stairs, whereby they knew That their 
favorite receptacle for treasures was being rapidly pre» 
pared for the occupation of the new-comers. 

These words came to their hearing: ‘‘If this is the; 
den.., what must the animals be!” Appparently “the 
den ” was being investigated ; for a scream was heard, 
followed by angry expostulations in a sharp tone, inter- 
mingled with sobs and gasps in a softer, lower voice. 

“Bless my soul, Modoc!” said Sir Roger, “those 
women must have found that black snake you caught 


12 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


tlie other day, and put in a bottle ; it was on the shelf 
in the closet 5 don’t you remember ? ” 

“ Yes,” replied Modoc in a meek, awestruck voice, 
“ and the snapping-turtle and the wired skeleton are up 
there, too!” 

“It is too bad to frighten the ladies so,” said the 
clergyman. 

“If the old lady has turned into a hopping toad her- 
self because of the alann, we Avont mind it,” suggested 
the Colonel, with malicious satisfaction. “ Perhaps it 
may prove injurious to the feelings of the turtle and the 
snake, but anything that causes the withdrawal of ^ that 
voice ’ must be regarded as a blessing.” 

At tea, the gentlemen appeared in their best costumes, 
and gravely ranged themselves on one side of the well- 
spi ead table. On the other side, Mrs. Langtry was sand- 
wiched between her husband and daughter; and the 
five pairs of eyes opposite were soon occupied in taking 
surreptitious observations of the new-comers. 

Professor Langtry was a stout, puffy little man, of 
German type, with a pleasant expression in his blue 
eyes, when one was able to catch a glimpse of them, 
from under the shaggy eyebrows, and through the blue 
glasses. He spoke but little, and was evidently absorbed 
in his own thoughts, possibly in scientific meditations, 
only partly understanding, and very little caring for the 
light conversation and jesting going on about him. A 
very absent-minded man, and great only in his special- 
ties. 

Miss Langtry was tall, and finely formed, with a step 
and manner of quiet dignity that compelled respect. A 
certain half-defiant air, accompanied with an appealing 
look in her large dark eyes, conveyed the idea that how- 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION. 13 

ever she might be aware of her father’s eccentricities, or 
her mother’s abruptness of manner, and want, of tact, 
she would never permit a touch of disrespect to be per- 
ceptible in her own conduct towards them, or tolerate it 
from others ; yet there was a sort of pathetic sensitive- 
ness about her, that seemed to appreciate all chivalrous 
deference, and courtesy to her parents. Her dark hair, 
wound about a classical-shaped head in careless fashion^ 
was coiled in heavy masses at the back : a mouth finely 
curved and slightly drooping at the corners, now, only 
expressed a slight shade of sadness, but might, should 
the owner find the world deceptive and severe, grow a 
trifle cynical. Upon her cheeks no roses lay unless 
they were the very creamiest roses eye ever beheld,” 
but let excitement toucli her heart, and the loveliest 
rose flush crept over them like dawning sunrise over 
hills of snow. It Avas in her chin her mirthfulness Avas 
revealed,— one might not suspect it from the thought- 
fulness of her eyes and brow,— but it Avas there ; and 
evinced the union of the spiritual and the mundane, as ; 
they united in her character. She was very quiet, and 
evidently neither desirous of “ making a good impres- 
sion,” nor Avilling to be draAvn into a personal conversa^ 
tion. She apparently regarded the fiA^e bachelors present 
as five varieties of human bears, with turbulent spirits 
and ferocious appetites. 

Not so her mother : after the introductions were per- 
formed she inquired without hesitation, particularly, 
and sympatheticaliy, of each of the young men, liis name, 
residence, and business; and endeavored to locate, eack 
in lier genealogical annals as to grandfather, and great 
grandiatlier, Avith references past "and present. Moran 
and tljc Colonel Avere thought to bear such resemblance 


14 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES, 


to departed friends, that it was with difficulty they 
maintained their own identity ; and avoided being drawn 
into a net- work of eulogistic but mournful memories of 
deceased Langtrys. 

It was the Colonel’s unfortunate allusion to an uncle 
of his, with whose family Mrs. Langtry happened to 
have some acquaintance, that brought down upon his 
devoted head a full account of certain peculiarities and 
hereditary traits, to be observed in these relatives,^ 
whereby the company were much amused and enlight- 
ened. but which were revelations most undesirable to 
the family representative, and produced in his soul 
“a tortured anger” he was not slow to express at the 
first opportunity. 

Modoc whispered to the Colonel his fears that she 
was a reporter for the “ Mercantile Agency.” 

Perceiving the clergyman at her left was rather pale 
and narrow-chested, she inquired if his family were con- 
sumptive, “ Because,” she added soothingly, ‘‘ you make 
me think of a sexton in our town, who said he had 
buried twenty consumptives in three years, and seven of 
them were clergymen who didn’t take enough exercise 
out of doors. You take plenty of exercise, I hope ? ” 
she inquired, ‘‘it may be the saving of you ! ” 

“ Oh, yes, madam, plenty of it,” responded that pa- 
tient individual. “ Your story reminds me of one ” — 

But at this point the Modoc noisily pushed back his 
chair, with the evident intention of departing, and the 
others taking the hint, followed his example, thus res- 
cuing Mr. Norris from his tete-d-tete,, by retreating to- 
gether in good order to the smoking-room where the 
garrison “ held a council of war.” 


A MWSC/MMEIi DIVERSION. 


15 


“ No lack of conversation now,” be^an the Modoc* 
“ The Voice will make thing's lively.” 

“ What will be the subject of the next harangue ? ” 
wondered the Colonel. “ It is well to be prepared, for 
I must confess I have no notion of offering up any more 
of my ancestors on the altar of her curiosity.” 

“ Yes, she served them up right and left, that’s a 
fact,” said the Modoc. “ I was longing to give her the 
points of your last flirtation, just for the fun of the 
thing.” 

Mr. Moran suggested that they should invest in 
plenty of cotton, and with that in their ears, appear 
deaf and dumb, when at table. Sir Roger, however, 
laid down his pipe, slowly rose to his full height, pulled 
down his velveteen vest, and took the floor, amid cries' 
of “Heart heart” * 

“ Friends and fellow-sufferers,” he began, “ the crisis 
is upon ns t Let us meet it like heroes t The ‘ Voice ’ 
is in our midst and cannot be avoided ; you have al- 
ready seen how easily our beloved clerical friend fell a 
victim to her attacks, and in what a crushed state we 
have dragged him off the field of combat. Still he must 
renew the fight ; for what better missionary work than 
to convert this dreadful woman ‘ from the error of her 
ways.’ He shall have our sympathy and advice gratui- 
tously, but no further can we assist him. The weapons 
of our warfare would be carnal if we undertook the 
work. But, my friends, the situation admits of allevia- 
tions! If the pai*son will monopolize the ‘Voice,’ 
Modoc can settle the old gentleman. I perceive a kin-' 
dred spirit in blue-bottle pursuits ; if he will judiciously 
suggest at intervals the presence of a few valuable bugs 
at distances of ten or twelve miles away, it Avill keep this' 


16 BAgilELQliS AND BUTTERF/JES. 

a^niiable little man constantly employed. The young 
lady is not so bffcl 1 Indeed, some might swear ‘ by her 
orbs, her beauteous orbs.’ 1 propose to relieve the rest 
of tlie company bjr taking upon myself the care of the 
young lady I It is entirely in your interests that I do 
it. My contributions to the game-bag and fish-basket 
^dll necessarily be few^ but I was always an unselfish 
man, — ^ Cela va sana dire ! 

Derisive laughter greeted this disinterested plan of 
Sir Rogers, when he demanded in a lofty tone if they 
were making' game of him. Jesting and laughing they 
^at smoking their cigars until Modoc exclaimed it was 
time to seek their downy couch,” which was an in- 
tended sarcasm upon Mrs. Dobbs’ hay mattresses and 
saw-dust pillows. 


II. 

**The man that hath no music In himself, 

•Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, 

Is tit for treasons, stratagems and spoils : 

# 41^ ^ Id IK m 

Let no such man be trusted.” 

•^Merchant 6f Vemce* Act K, Scene li 

The next morning dawned beautiful enough to tempt 
an anchorite from his cell. It was one of those summer 
days when mere existence is a pleasure, — ^^“Not to be 
doing, but to be.” A heavenly calm pervaded the 
scene ; the sky seemed wedding the sea with a horizon 
ring of luminous mist, while tiie ocean was singing to 
itself in a dreamy undertone. 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION, 17 

The bachelors had finished their breakfast Ion of before 
the new-comers appeared; but lounging about in a 
desultory way, picking up tackle and guns, Modoc 
uiged more despatch. 

‘“"We shall catch nothing to-day if we’re not off scon ! 
Where is that D. D. ? — dilatoiy divine,” he explained, 
— ‘‘is he writing another fifthly for a discourse? I 
want to try that new gun of yours, Moran. I’ll lend 
my old one to Norris; if it does kick, he’ll never know 
what hit him. Ah ! there is the ‘Voice ’ — the persua- 
sive voice I Yes, my angel, I come I ” and with the 
words he sprang to his feet, and the whole party being 
at last ready, with much jesting and considerable noise 
were soon departing towards the sea. 

“There goes the old fossil after some specimens,” 
exclaimed the Modoc, as they caught sight of the Pro- 
fessor and the bag disappearing over a knoll. “Wonder 
he don’t break his precious nose, in his rambles, with 
those thick blue glasses strung across his orbs ! Poor 
old codger, I believe 111 help him to a beetle, or a cock- 
roach, some day t” 

“Hillo,” cried Sir Roger, in a stage whisper, “if 
there isn’t Miss Langtry with a sketch-book under her 
arm! Artistic, too, — by Jove, don’t she look pretty I 
Wish I had a grain of art in my composition, but you 
know I’m artle%8^^\ with an imbecile smile. “Could 
n’t pretend even, you know. I say, Moran, why don't 
you get out that old sketch-book of yours? You used 
to do something in that line : havo it out, man ; it may 
be worth its weight in gold to you ! ” 

Indeed Miss Langtry did look lovely, as, equipped in 
a bright, quaint-looking walking dress, and a broad- 
brimmed hat adorned with a sea-gull’s wing, she walked 


is BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 

quickly down the slope, with a step firm and buoy- 
ant, towards a sheltered spot under the edge of the 
cliff. 

John Moran was puzzled himself at the interest with 
which he watched the graceful figure of the young girl, 
and, although he would not confess it to his jestiiig 
companions for worlds, the wish did arise that he had 
his sketch-book now in hand, and could confide some of 
these charming sea- views to paper in such desirable so- 
ciety. Subtilty entered into his mind, and the ensuing 
days proved the success of his schemes. 

One o’clock brought the hungry company again to- 
gether. Mrs. Dobbs had learned that sportsmen’s ap- 
petites wait not for time or tide, and admit of no par- 
leying. A well-filled table greeted their sight as they 
entered the dining-room. It was laid out in an old- 
fashioned room, with a gigantic fire-place, and was 
loaded down with viands that would have tempted the 
most feeble appetite. 

At one end a huge baked blue-fish, hooked in the 
surf that morning by Moran and landed opposite the 
house, was temptingly showing its brown sides ; while 
it had for its vis-a-vis a large striped bass, which would 
have been the pride and glory of any fisherman. The 
side-dishes held roast ducks, young lamb, interspersed 
with the fi'uits of a day’s sport ; viz., plover, snipe, and 
a large dish of delicate ^‘ox-eyes.” All these were put 
on at once in true hunter’s style, sending up theii 
savory steam together; a grateful incense to the hungry 
sportsmen. The party were soon busily engaged around 
the cheerful board ; the silence occasionally broken by 
appeals for a second supply or a jest against some one’s 
appetite. 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION, 


19 

The dinner disappeared, good-humor increased, con- . 
versatioii grew more animated, and by the time the 
ducks were reduced to skeletons the talk was very 
general. 

The Professor and his daughter, however, said but 
little ; the former brightened up once or twice when 
Modoc gave an account of the morning’s exploits with 
insect and reptile; but the Voice ” made up for any 
deficiency. 

She gave a voluble account of their home and pur- 
suits, the Professor’s strange ways and freaks, and her 
daughter’s retiring habits. 

““Avis is not a bit lilce what I was at her age. I was 
always ready for anything that came along, and could 
chat and talk with the best. T believe in putting the , 
best foot forward. I never lacked for beaux, I can tell 
you I How well I remember the morning in our old 
garden when the Professor came to know his fate. I 
seemed to feel he was coming, and wore pink, my fa- 
vorite color, — a gypsy hat with pink strings. If I had 
known him then as well as I know him now, I could 
have worn my oldest sun-bonnet ! What he saw in me, 
that made him want to many me, I’m sure I don’t know, 
except that I looked like one of his precious insects or 
butterflies.” 

“ Or potato bug,” suggested Modoc, sotto voce. 

Here the daughter, with her sweet voice, came to her 
father’s rescue. 

My mother has a very active temperament, and at 
home is busily employed with many charities ; she 
has ” 

The bait took at once. ‘‘Yes, I have five meetings 
a week usually, and sometimes six ; one . is to teach 


20 BACHELOItS AND BUTTERFLIES, 

young girls housekeeping. It is beautiful to see them 
setting the table to music ! What I’m to do here when 
you are all out amusing yourselves, I don’t know, ex- 
cept that Mrs. Dobbs tells me there is a set of Montauk 
Indians near ; and like as not they have no Christian 
advantages. We can go down this afternoon and in- 
vestigate,”— tufning to the unlucky clergyman, as be- 
ing decidedly in his line of duty. He, however, mut- 
terered something about a previous engagement, which 
would have been thoroughly examined and combated, 
had not some one opportunely exclaimed that he saw 
the Queen of the Montauks, approaching from East- 
hampton in her chariot. 

This was enough; the field of Christian labor opened 
at once. Mrs. Langtry immediately arose to obtain a 
nearer view; and the party separated, going their dif- 
ferent ways for the afternoon. 

Guns were shouldered, and tackle coiled up; the in- 
sect net was seen disappearing over a swell of the land, 
held by the old gentleman, with Modoc by his side ; 
their present object the capture of a curious snake, 
which the latter had seen by Oyster Pond. The silence 
that pervaded the house indicated the Voice was not 
silenced, but distant ; on what errand did not trouble 
Mr. Moran, who, alone in the bachelor sanctum, was 
trying to write several neglected letters. Silent as were 
his surroundings, the scene before him, beyond the Yine- 
latticed window, was so lovely, the pen lay idle in his 
lingers. The billowy land of light green was like a con- 
gealed sea ; a fitting contrast to the restless, ded^ blue 
ocean, that every now and then appeared in view be- 
tween the gentle hillocks, — 


A MIDSmiMEn DIVERSION. 21 

** Fading and darkening in the distance, 

Silent, majestical, and slow, 

The white ships haunt it to and fro, 

With all their ghostly sails unfurled, 

As phantoms from another world 
Haunt the dim confines of existence.” 

All was so still and picture-like that the one pigeon- 
hawk that sailed over the hollows and hills, Avith its 
motionless wings, did not disturb the serenity of the 
scene; his thoughts drifted away far over the blue sea 
to another land. 

Suddenly the silence was broken by the sweet tones 
of a parlor organ, played as he had never heard it played 
before. The melody carried him back, as a perfume 
often does, to a scene and place far different,^ — far 
away across the waters, to a cathedral in an old town by 
a'^blue Swiss lake. The last time he had heard tliat air 
(Bethoven’s “Le Desir ”) it was played in a church, 
also by an unseen musician. The same sun that now 
gilded the vanishing sails, stole through an old painted 
window and rested on a large crucifix that hung over 
the altar. He remembered, as he listened to the en- 
rapturing strain, that the sunlight left the bowed, 
crowned head of the sculptured Christ, and illumined 
the outstretched arms ; then gently crept off to the 
blood-stained hands, and rested there until the solemn 
music had ceased ; when the sunlight and the seeming 
life slipped back again to Heaven. Dimly in the dusk 
of the evening, the kneeling peasants looking up to the 
sacred figure, beheld it fitly shrouded by the gathering 
shadows. It had made a great impression at the time. 
It was one of the pictures painted by memory ; and now^ 


• 22 BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 

again, he heard the same strains, at the same hour, — 
but Avith Avhat changed surroundings. 

Tlie letters Avere discarded ; he moved cautiously 
across the uneven passage-Avay, and saw Miss Langtry, 
as he imagined he should, before the instrument; her 
hands wandering idly over the keys, while her dark eyes 
rested dreamily on the quiet sunset. 

‘‘Pardon me, if I intrude,” said he Avith a deprecat-' 
iug, yet earnest, look ; “ you have drawn me here by 
the chords of memory, as Avell as by those of melody. 
The air you have been playing produced a great impres- 
sion upon me years ago. It Avas abroad, in an old 
cathedral town, L first heard it, and I cannot listen to it, 
now as you have rendered it Avithout deep emotion. 
Will you accept such a testimony to your talent as an 
excuse for so abruptly entering ? ” . 

“I am sure I am very glad that you enjoyed it,” re- . 
plied Miss Langtry. “ Are you so very fond of music 
then?” ^ ^ ; 

“Indeed I am, Avhen fine music and the musician ap- 
pear so much ill sympathy I I must confess it is seldom 
1 have the pleasure, for so much finds tolerance under 
that name which is mere jingling of strings, and volumes 
of sound. I do not profess to be a connoisseur at all, 
but 1 do not care for music, even if sent out with the 
patent royal of a great name, if it does not touch and 
elevate one through the emotions.” 

“Do you play yourself,” said Miss Langtry. “I 
should imagine you must do so to appreciate it so 
ardently!” 

“Ah, have 5^11 not discovered it is one thing to feel, 
and quite anotlier to communicate that feeling? I 
should like to have cultivated Avhat little taste I have in 


A 3fWSl/M3I£R DIVERSION: 


23 


that direction, hut my life has been a busy and a prac- 
tical one ; most luxuries, as well as most holidays, have 
been forced into the background.” 

Miss Langtry glanced at the manly face before her,^ 
and noticed the shade which memory of so many years 
of struggle with the world brought to the quiet, resolute 
face ; and a sudden perception, which comes to women 
like a flash of inspiration, revealed to her the innate 
truth and self-sacrifice of which this man was capable. 
Instinctively she felt a trust in him, which could bear nq 
warrant in experience, yet which she no more questio-ned 
than the fact of her own identity. Insensibly they 
drifted into conversation about foreign lands ; of beautir 
ful views ; of strange and remarkable people. , 

Were you abroad long. Miss Langtry ? ” asked Mr. 
Moran. ' 

r “ Only a year. Papa could not be absent from the 
college longer than that, but his scientific tastes led us 
into rdany' countries and many curious places; we had 
some very funny adventures. My mother detests trav- 
eling, and is never so happy as when at home with 
a complete course of orphan asylums, ‘industrial 
schools,’ and ‘ reformatory missions ’ to attend ; yet she 
is too fond of papa to allowhim to journey much alone, so 
we usually drift about during his vacations : sometimes 
into very agreeable scenes, and sometimes — as you see, 
— into such an outlandish, wearisome place as this.” 
Had she a suspicion that their arrival had been unwel- 
come, and did she mean to revenge herself ? “Wher- 
ever there is a stray phenomenon in natural history, 
-thither rolls the family car, and everything is sacrificed 
to it, like the idol of Juggernaut,” she. added laughing.. 
;“Papa has gone to-day with one of the gentlemen, and 


24 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


mother declared she would hunt up a mission school for 
fisher-children, which is said to be in the vicinity.” 

‘‘ And, meanwhile, you are left to your own re- 
sources ? ” asked Moran. “ Really, as we were the first 
on the field, we are in some degree the hosts ; v/e should 
do something to induce you to alter your opinion of this 
‘ outlandish place ’ I I assure you that it has attractions^ 
numerous and well worth seeing. I should like to show 
you the view from the lighthouse ; the effect of sea and 
sky is wonderful, and the breakers in a storm are sim- 
ply superb ! ” 

‘‘ I should be happy,” began Miss Langtry ; but 
here the bell for supper sounded, and Moran realized 
two good hours or more had slipped away. 

He heard his companions returning, and imagined if 
they discovered his tete-d-tete^ they would rally him not 
a little on his usurpation of Sir Roger’s claim ‘‘to take 
care of the young lady.” 

Indignatioii filled his mind as he reflected in what an 
unappreciative mood they had received the honor of 
Miss Langtry’s society. Was she not one of the most 
thoroughly refined and charming persons it had ever 
been his good fortune to meet ? Beautiful, and yet so 
sensible withal I Young, and yet with such a sweet 
dignity. 

The party of gunners were seen approaching with 
bunches of decoys swinging carelessly at their sides; 
guns over shoulders, — empty game-bags, and — wrath 
and vexation depicted on their countenances. More- 
over, the Voice accompanied them, loquacious as ever, 
keeping up well with the men’s stride by her nervous, 
swinging gait. . 

Moran saw at a glance something was wrong, but the 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION. 


25 


presence of Mrs. Langtry, and the troubled inquiry on 
her daughter’s face, forbade questions until the seclu- 
sion of “the den” was reached, when he Avell knew 
the woes and grievances would be poured forth. 

He was right : no sooner had the door closed on them, 
after a tea eaten in comparative silence, than two or 
three of the men began at once to give an account of the 
afternoon’s failure. 

Moran at length gathered that the Voice had departed 
soon after dinner, armed with some tracts entitled, 
“Hints to the . Aborigines,” to visit the poor Indian set- 
tlement by “ Indian Pond.” When last seen, her tall, 
angular figure was energetically stalking over the hills 
in that direction. 

The hunters had gone down to their favorite spot for 
game near “ Great Pond ; ” had put out the decoys, and 
had lain quietly concealed for hours with true sports- 
manlike patience ; but the birds seemed unusually shy. 
Several flocks were seen to come directly towards the 
“ stools,” but when within range would suddenly wheel 
off and disappear. 

Again and again was this remarkable occurrence re- 
peated ; until the afternoon waned, and the descending 
sun warned the disgusted men to return, before they had 
enjoyed one good shot. 

Just as they were preparing to give up in despair, 
there appeared rising from the depths of a little valley 
below them the helmet-shaped shade hat of their friend 
Mrs Langtry, followed gradually by the sight of her tall 
form, and a few moments more brought her into the 
midst of the group of chagrined sportsmen. 

“Have you had much luck?” she exclaimed. “I 
should think not from the looks of things ! Dear me, I 


26 BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLfES. 

should never have the patience to spend a whole day 
waiting for shots and then nothing to show for it! If 
I had only known you were sitting so still on this hill, I 
could have come up and read to you, while you watched. 
You see, I have been to the Indian settlement, and on 
my way home I found such a snug place in which to read 
from a book lent me by our dear Dr. W alker, called 
‘ Crumbs of Comfort in the Wilderness.’ The place iS; 
not far from here ; and if you’d been there, you’d 
have had enough shots, — why, I never saw so many; 
birds in my life ! They came from all directions, and I 
was so afraid they’d settle on me I kept waving them 
oft* with my parasol as fast as they came. I can tell you 
my arm aches, for I had to keep busy niost of the after- 
noon.” 

‘‘Imagine our feelings when she said that I ” wrath- 
fully exclaimed Sir Roger. “When I saw that green 
veil rising over the hillock it needed a great deal of 
spiritual grace to prevent me taking it for a greenback 
plover and sending a volley of small shot right into it I ” 

“And if I’d been on the jury, I’d acquitted you on, 
the spot,” rejoined the Modoc. 

“She said she Avas glad she had saved some of the 
poor little birds’ lives,” remarked Reynolds, “ but I no- 
tice that tender feeling does not trouble her at meal 
time.” 

The entrance of Dobbs’ son put an end to grumblings 
and disparagements. He came to announce that the 
evening was propitious for the long-delayed coon-hunt. 

This heir to the house of Dobbs was a placid young 
man ; an excellent shot, and good company. He said 
the corn showed recent inroads from the animals, and 
they were now in th^ neighboring s\vamps, . , j 


: A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION, 


27 


Instantly the hunters were in motion, and prepara- 
tions made for an immediate raid upon the wily game, 
and soon the sound of their departing footsteps died 
away into the stillness of the quiet night. 


III. 

' ** Of all tales it is the saddest, 

And more sad because it makes me smile.” 

— Byron. 

The clock down stairs, inherited from Mrs. Dobbs’ 
grandmother, was just striking eleven. 

Mrs. Langtry had been sleeping the sleep of the just, 
but she awoke with a sudden start. W as it the whir 
of the old time-piece below that had disturbed her, or 
was it really the sound of low voices beneath her Aviii- 
dow ? She pushed back the frill of her night-cap from 
lier ear, and listened. 

‘‘Are you ready?” said a man’s voice in cautious 
tones. 

“ Hush, speak low ! There ! I have dropped my 
knife ! ” said a second voice. 

“ Here it is ! Careful noAv, or we’ll waken the old 
lady ! I believe this is her window.” 

Mrs. Langtry’s mind was still imbued with her first 
impression of the place as a natural rendezvous for mur- 
derers and robbers, and upon hearing these words it is 
not surprising that she sat straight up in bed, AviUi 


2^ BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 

emotions of fear and horror, and awaited the continua- 
tion. 

‘‘ Ezra, Ezra ! ” she whispered to her husband ; but 
the Professor, at all times a sound sleeper, was un- 
usually tired, and he snored away undisturbed. 

‘‘Is the body heavy?” said the first voice; “Can 
you lift it ? ” 

“No : I’m going to drag it with a cord until we have 
it hidden in the pepperidge-tree in the swamp. Hold 
the lantern nearer, — let us look at her! Oh I she’ll 
do I ” with a laugh. 

“ Hurry, or we shall be discovered. Don’t leave any 
tracks behind ; this is hanging business, you know. No 
matter about the legs, — we can jam them down.” 

A cold perspiration broke out upon Mrs. Langtry. 
Were they going to bury some unfortunate woman in 
this unfeeling manner, after murdering her in private, 
and she the only witness to the deed ? She shoo'k the 
Professor, but in vain ; he did indeed murmur, “ It is 
beautiful, — I am going to catch it! ” but Mrs. Langtry 
was too indignant to make allowance for the old gentle- 
man’s dreams. She exclaimed ; — 

“ Ezra Langtry, yon are enough to provoke a saint ! 
Here I might be murdered in cold blood by these vil- 
lains, or carried off and drowned in the sea, and you 
would never so much as open an eye to save me. 
Dreaming, and thinking everlastingly about your horrid 
beetles and bugs ! O dear, what can have happened ? 
There ! I heard a bump. Who knows but that was the 
poor young woman's liead ! Hung, — I hope they’ll be 
hung as high as Hamag, and tarred and feathered too, 
for such actions. There, they’re going,” — as the sound 
of steps and voices ceased, — “ but where ? They may 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION. 


29 

return for me. Weli, if ever I'm required to testif}^ 
what I know about this night's proceedings I shall not 
mince matters ; I shall speak the whole truth, and I 
liope justice will be done.” 

Inwardly quaking and trembling, she lay awake a 
long time picturing to herself a scene at court, and her- 
self confronting the miserable ])risoners with unex- 
pected testimony ; when gradual ly sleep overpowered 
her senses, and she sank off into uneasy slumbers. 

‘^ Mother, you look rather pale this morning,” said 
Avis, as she took her seat at the breaktVist table, her 
cheeks glowing from the fresh morning air. ‘‘ Did you 
not sleep well ? 

Sleep!” said Mrs. Langtry, in .indignant tones, ‘‘I 
have hardly slept a wink. Avis. It's iny belief there 
was a murder committed near here last night,” she con- 
tinued in an awestruck manner. 

Mrs. Dobbs, who was pouring out the coffee, sus- 
pended the coffee-pot ill mid-air, while she (qaculated,— 

""Good gracious! I W'aiit to know!” and all held 
their breath and riveted their eyes on Mrs. Langtry. 

""Yes, my dear, I heard the villains conversing about 
it. They were under my window ; and I should judge 
they had dragged the body of the poor woman that far 
on their way.” 

."•What makes you think it was a woman? What did 
they say ? ” 

"• Why, they said ^ she^ and they talked about taking 
‘ her ’ along with a rope and concealing her.” 

•* Did you see them ? ” inquired Modoc, as a gleam of 
mischief danced in his eyes and a ray of- intelligence 
darted into the faces of the other bachelors. 

""No: I was in too great terror to go and look at 


80 


BACIIELOnS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


them tlirough the blinds; and first I thought they were 
robbers coming up into my room.” 

Was father awake, — did he hear them too? ” said 
Avis. 

Mr. Langtry looked up, and was about to reply, but 
his wife interrupted him. 

‘‘ Your father, Avis, was of no more use than a log 
of wood I pinched liim until he was black and blue, 
but I couldn’t get him awake any way. He only snored 
and dreamed, and was no possilde comfort. It's singu- 
lar, though, none of the rest of you heard or saw any- 
thing of tliem. Were you all jisleep ? ” 

Madam,” said the clergyman, in a composed man- 
ner, ‘‘‘‘I think I may say I met the murderers when I 
was returning from a midnight stroll.” 

"‘Met them, did 3011 say? How? Where? Did 
they wear masks? Would you recognize them again?” 

"" Yes,” plaintively ; “ I would know them anywhere. 
“ They were a villainous-looking set, and I shall make 
it my business to see that justice is done them.” 

“Yes, that’s it; that’s just what I thought!” ex- 
claimed Mrs. Langtry, triumphantly. We should give 
notice to the detectives at once, and I am ready to give 
iny testimony in any court of justice that will bring 
them to the gallows.” 

The observations of Mr. Norris were received by the 
other bachelors with a mirthfulness that revealed to 
Miss Langtry there was no cause for alarm, and the de- 
light expressed in Modoc’s eyes made her surmise that 
a joke lay at the bottom of all. 

"" Did 3^ou try to stop them ? ” pursued Mrs. Lang- 
try ; "" did you see the body ? ” 

“ Yes, I saw that too ; and I fired off my gun three 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION, 


31: 


times in the cause ; hut they only seemed to treat it as 
a joke. Do you not think such mirth was heartless? ” 
Dreadful ! ” said Mrs. Langtry, energetically. “But 
I suppose they are hardened sinners, ‘dyed in tlie avooI,’ 
so to speak Tliey won’t laugh when tlie noose is round 
their necks. Do you know, I heard them say some- 
thing about '^fastening the hody,^ That was awfuL” 

“ Yes, they put it in a tree, and then ran and left it,” 
exclaimed Mr, Norris. 

Mrs. Langtry’s mouth fell open, find her eyes dilated 
with horror at this idea. “What did it look like?” 
she at length whispered in a faint voice. 

“ Like an imitation of a coon.” 

At these words a shout of laughter, no longer re- 
strained, was heard from the merry bachelors, including 
Dobbs’ son, who happened to be pi'esent, and who had 
appeared doubled up for some time over a neivspaper in 
a corner, evidently undergoing an internal convulsion. 

“Yes,” burst in Modoc, “ Norris emptied all the bar- 
rels of his gun into that old ‘ sell ’ in the tree, thinking 
it was a nice fat coon, but the dog knew better and 
wouldn’t bark ; and, as it was excellent practice, wh}^, 
we let him fire away. There wasn’t much of tlie ‘ hide’ 
left. If you could have seen the wild excitement in 
his eye. Miss Langtiy, when he discovered ‘the body of 
the victim’ planted so firmly in the tree, and he found 
he could hit him without missing, — oh ! it was such fun 
to see the blessed humbug and the energy of the par- 
son.” And Modoc went off in another explosion oi 
laughter, joined by the others, while upon Mrs. Lang- 
try slowly dawned the idea of the capabilities of these 
fearful young men and the total mistake into which she 
had been betrayed. 


32 BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES, 

She gazed wrathfully around, and then arose indig- 
nantly from the table, with the remark, “ For her part 
slie could never see any fun in practical jokes, and she 
thought those very childish who did.” 

The Professor and Avis had been extremely amused, 
and indulged in a laugh with ’the rest; but the latter 
followed her mother to endeavor to appease that lady’s 
wrath. 

It’s a positive shame to hear of such goings on in 
the dead of night,” cried her mother as soon as they 
were alone ; ‘‘and a clergyman, too, out on such revel- 
ings. Reall3% I shouldn’t want to hear him preach. 
He was as wild as any of them, I can see. I wonder 
you can tolerate such actions, Avis, — I saw you laugh- 
ing with the rest.” 

‘’‘Wh3% mother, you surely would not want a minister 
to be al ways solemn. He is human like tlie rest of us. 
I would not uphold a Christianity that did not admit of 
a good hearty laugh.” 

I don’t mean to say he ought not to smile ; but he 
ought to be in bed at decent hours, and not coon-hunt- 
ing in the middle of the night, — and with his health 
too. Just think how he must have looked firing up 
into that tree at some old buffalo robe.” 

But, mother,” said Avis, repressing a smile as she 
thought of it, “it was ail in good faith, you know, on 
his part. It was the Modoc who turned it into a 
farce.” 

Don’t speak to me of that young man. I wonder 
your father ims anything to do with him. He has no 
respect for persons or age. It was he I heard under 
my window, I am convinced; and he knew from the 
beginning that I was in error about the affair; he is 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION, 


83 


more like a wild savage than a Christian ; his shrieks 
and whoops are enough to drive one distracted. He 
has been no end of trouble to me already. I handed 
him a good book to read, the other day, and a few 
moments after he handed it back to me with a bow 
and the remark that ‘his physician had warned liim 
against the excitement of reading more than the title- 
page of such interesting literature, otherwise he should 
be delighted to devour the whole.’ No doubt he will 
bring his mother’s gray hairs in sorrow to the grave ; 
of course, that is, if her hair is gray, which I’m sure it 
ought to be if she’s anywhere near my age, unless she 
dyes it.” 

“ There is papa and the wagon, mother ! ” said Avis, 
glad of a diversion. “ If we are going to see the Queen 
of the Montauks to-day it is time we were ready; ” and 
so saying, she hurried from the room, and soon joining 
her father and mother on the porch, they drove off in 
the direction of the Indian -settlement. The}^ had not 
gone half a mile when they saw Alliston with his gun 
on his shoulder, walking over the downs in the same 
direction as themselves. 

“There is Mr. Alliston,” exclaimed Mrs. Langtry. 
“ If he is going to the Settlement we may as well take 
him in and before any one could reply she had given 
the invitation, and it was accepted with alacrity. 

Alliston was very much pleased to find himself in the 
seat with Avis, and exerted his best energies to make 
liimself as agreeable as possible. He agreed with the 
opinions advanced by Mrs. Langtry in such a compli- 
mentary fashion that the lady began to entertain the 
idea he was the one person in the world who under- 
stood and properly appreciated her. He recalled all his 


34 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES, 


oddn and ends of information on scientific subjects, and 
insinuatingly introduced them for tlie Professor's ben- 
efit and enjoyment, and still found plenty of time to draw 
out Miss Langtry’s experiences with artful fascination. 
His dark eyes were constantly asking permission to offer 
some attention or civility, and Avis could but acknowl- 
edge to herself that he was a man of perfect address, 
with delightful savoir faire^ and certainly most enter- 
taining. 

They found the few Indians encamped by Great Pond 
a pitiful remnant of the once numerous tribe. The 
“ Queen ” was one only in name, and, although the repre- 
sentative of the former sachems, the sovereignty that 
extended over such a feeble band of dirty, basket-mak- 
ing Indians was a poor substitute for the power held 
by the free, bold chiefs who years ago reigned supreme 
over this wild extent of coast. 

The Queen ” of Moiitauk was quite ready to tell 
them tales and legends of her ancestors. Her tall 
form attained its full height, while her eyes flashed with 
suppressed fire, as her words and declamations grew 
eloquent with the spirit that animated her forefathers, 
in relating the brave deeds of long ago. 

The ‘ Queen ’ will tell your fortune. Miss Langtry,” 
said Alliston, if you wish it ; or have you a prejudice 
against the art ? ” 

‘‘ I am no believer whatever ; neither have I any su- 
perstition in regard to it. I cannot fancy an ignorant 
Indian woman should possess any power to divine my 
future ; yet for amusement I would not hesitate to give 
her my hand to decipher the mystic lines did not 
mother seriously object to it, and I would not like to 
annoy her.'’ 


A mi)smrM£ii diversion. 


85 


“ The young lady need not give me her hand if she 
does not wish. I know her fate without it! ” suddenly 
exclaimed the Indian woman, who had been silently 
watching them. ‘‘ I will tell her one thing though, and 
happy she be if she follow my words. Sawaka’s eye 
sees far ; her glance is straight. The tall one is fair, and 
his words sweet as honey, but the honey is not for his 
own hive. The dove cannot live in the hawk’s nest. 
The other speaks not so well, but his words last.” 

‘^What a senseless jargon ! ” ejaculated Alliston to 
Avis with an expression of disgust as he turned away. 
“ You were right. Miss Langtry ; these fortune-telling 
squaws are the most arrant humbugs imaginable.” 

Avis wondered at the vehemence with which he 
spoke, and at the slight flush of annoyance that dark- 
ened his cheek. She laughed merrily as she said, — 

‘‘ I cannot understand a word of it. But 1 suppose 
it’s a part of the trade to portion every lady with two 
rivals, is it not ? So my fate lies between a tall and a 
short one, does it ? I shall have to measure every gen- 
tleman of my acquaintance hereafter, to be sure and 
avoid the tallest. If it were not so absurd I might be- 
gin with you.” 

Alliston was conscious of nearly six feet, but he 
quickly replied, ‘‘ Oh, Fm of medium height. Let us 
forget this nonsense, which is too commonplace to be 
interesting, and go to see the exj)loits in arrow-shooting 
for which these Indian youths are famous. They can 
make some wonderful shots.” 

So engaged were they in these trials of skill and in 
various curiosities that it was dusk before they per- 
ceived it time to return. As they rode home slowly in 
the twilight, with the moonlight falling on the ocean to 


36 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES, 


their left, in long beams of light, and the weird silence 
resting on the lonely wastes of uninhabited land on 
either side, Alliston improved the opportunity given 1 >y 
the scene and the hour to quote many a verse from poet 
and writer apropos to the landscape before them. 
Roger Alliston possessed one of those fatal gifts of 
fascination whereby a man with a full, flexible voice 
and a quick perception can so render the thoughts and 
earnest sentiments of better, whole-souled men as to 
make them seem his own. In his true nature he Avas 
anything but a sentimentalist — rather a selfish, calculat- 
ing man of the world ; but ladies were usually much 
moved by his deep, sonorous voice reciting to them 
the touching romances of heroism and self-sacrifice, or 
when his pleading tones were charged with appropriate 
emotion in songs of love, grief or passion. 

The fair maidens to whom he offered this delightful 
incense of impassioned sentiment declared privately to 
their confidants, “that he expressed himself so “beau- 
tifully,” and seemed to feel so keenly, one could not have 
the heart to repulse him ; besides it Avas plain his ex- 
perience must have been something Avonderful.” He 
knew his power ; and he knew exactly Avhen to use it. 
He imagined Miss Langtry to be a young lady of rather 
romantic tendencies, and perhaps credulous withal, and, 
as she Avas pretty, the thought of trying his affecting 
effusions upon her was very alluring. It AA^as marvelous 
Avith Avhat good effect he used as capital in this busi- 
ness of sentiment the account of his abandonment to 
grief at the death of his mother, Avhen a lad ; which, 
no doubt, evinced his sincere feelings at the time, but 
from frequent repetition and unhallo Aved use, had lost 
its poAver over his OAvn sensibilities; still, when told 


A MIDSl/m/£n DIVERSION. 


87 


in his mellow tones, it never failed to elicit the sym- 
pathies of others. 

Then there was a copy of verses written upon the 
fatal illness of a clear friend, — a lacty, — which he carried 
in his pocket-book and produced at tlie right moment, 
omitting to state, however, that tlie lady referred to was 
a cousin much older than himself, for whom his interest 
had been merely friendly ; but it added piquancy to 
allow the inference that he was the victim of an unfortu- 
nate attachment. He consoled liis conscience by the re- 
flection that it was their own fault if they misinterpreted 
his looks and tones: he had never really “sazc?” anything 
untrue. 

Be it remembered, these tender reminiscences were 
usually reserved for a confidential tete-d-tete with the 
lady to whom he happened to be devoted. In truth, his 
attempts at being agreeable were so universally suc- 
cessful, that although he enjoyed ladies’ society, he rather 
depreciated liis easy conquests. 

And what were Miss Langtry’s impressions ? In the 
seclusion of her room that night, she passed in mental 
review the faces and forms of her new acquaintances, 
attributing to each such characteristics as her knowledge 
of human nature would permit her to foi-m. The}^ were 
all evidently gentlemen of good society, — their rough 
suits could not disguise the grace and good breeding con- 
ferred by habitual contact with culture, tact and refine- 
ment, She felt really annoyed that chance should have 
forced two ladies into such an entire bachelor party ot 
pleasure seekers. ‘‘ Sir Roger certainly is the handsom- 
est,” she reflected, and his manner partakes of that de- 
ferential, flattering character which suggests the great- 
est coiisideratiou to the person addressed. No doubt he 


38 


BACUELOUS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


could prove a very ai:>Teeal)le companion, perhaps too 
agreeable for one’s peace of mind.” She was doubt- 
ful whether this flattering attention was a mark of 
regard, or only the customary toll he offered to all 
fair ladies. Mr. Moran was certainly a contrast, — she 
liked ‘‘ his quiet consideration for others, his unassuming 
independence, and appreciated his practical good sense, 
but oh, what a nose ! Why was it that good people 
Avere so often unfortunately plain ? ” The Modoc entered 
her favor, as was his fashion Avith all, nolens voZews. 
She thought he must resemble the hero Avho — 

“ In all his moods, whether grave or mellow, 

Was such a touchy, testy, pleasant fellow, 

Had so much mirth, and wit, and spleen about him. 

There was no living with him, — nor, without him.” 

“Yes, no doubt the Avhole party Avished them away, iiot- 
Avitlistanding their polite civility ! She lioped her father 
Avould decide upon a brief sojourn : until tlien, surely 
there Avas sufficient scope for all to folloAv their dilfer- 
ent inclinations without interfering Avith each other’s 
pleasures.” 

W ith this comforting thought she fell asleep. 


A MIBSUMMEIi DIKEJ^SION. 


39 


IV. 

‘‘For days before the wild dove cooed for rain, 

The sky had been too bright, the world too fair ; 

We knew such loveliness could not remain, 

We heard its ruin in the flattering air : 

* * * * * 

Blown by the winds, tormented, wet, and gray, 

Losing itself in cloud, the landscape lay; 

Or, with a sudden struggle, shook away 
Its cloud, and like a foundering ship arose. 

Distinct and dark above the driving spray. 

Until a fiercer onset came to close 
The hapless day.” 

The day of rest was welcomed by all the party at 
Montauk with a sensation of relief. Long excursions 
and much boating and shooting had prepared them for 
a Sabbath’s quiet and inactivity ; but the elements were 
evidently in anything but a state of tranquillity. Dark, 
threatening clouds scurried across the sky in fierce bat- 
talions; a heavy mist hung its gray mantle over the 
eastern horizon, and a rising wind moaned and trembled 
as if with the violence of suppressed passion, ready to 
break out into wild gusts of angry storm at the least 
provocation. The waves beat upon the shore with a 
harsh, portentous sound, and the crushing and rattling 
of the stones, as the waters slipped back from their foot- 
hold, suggested the rattling of the chain which confines 
a wild beast who longs to break away into unlicensed 
freedom and destruction. 

Avis stood at the door with Mr. Moran, looking out 
on the gatliering clouds, which kept rolling up in gray 
billows from over the sea. 


40 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


‘‘ Are you timid at the approach of a storm, Miss 
Langtry?” asked Moran. “ Most ladies are, I think.” 

‘‘ Oh, no, indeed,” said Avis ; it may not be the true 
feminine spirit, but I must say I delight in that wild 
marshaling of forces that precedes a war of the elements. 
It always exhilarates me, and creates a feeling of daring 
I never experience otherwise.” 

‘‘ Then you are not troubled with those electric cur- 
rents that disturb so singularly some unfortunates? 
With my mother they produce a pecviliar form of hys- 
teria, which I believe no amount of will can wholly over- 
come. If you do not mind the dampness, I believe we 
would have time to walk to the Cliff and see the grandeur 
of the ocean as the surf is lashed into foam.” 

‘‘If you think we can accomplish it without being 
deluged with rain, I should like it extremely.” 

“Avis,” called out Mrs. Langtry, “if you are going 
on any foolish sight-seeing, take your over-shoes and 
waterproof and umbrella ! ” 

Roger Allistoii entered the room at that moment, and 
his brow darkened as he saw Mr. Moran and Avis pre- 
2)aring to depart from the liouse. He had already i)assed 
a number of rainy days within doors rather dolefully, 
and upon observing the state of the Aveather he had 
cheerfully accepted it with the hope that Miss Langtry’s 
presence would relieve the tedium delightfully, and he 
had promised himself a great deal of her society that 
day. It was, therefore, Avith ill - concealed annoyance 
that he saAV her monopolized by Mr. Moran, and he 
mentally Avondered how such a plain, indifferent looking 
man could be so ofiicious. He could not avoid asking 
their destination, and roused Mrs. Langtry’s fears by ex- 
claiming that he believed they could not return before 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION. 


41 


the black clouds in the west would discharge their con- 
tents. Modoc remarked maliciously, Avith a covert 
glance at Alliston, that if it did rain Moran seemed pro- 
vided with sufficient wraps for Miss Langtry. Mr. 
Langtry entering at this moment gave it as his opinion 
that there was no occasion to be troubled ; they would 
have plenty of time to go that short distance and return, 
if they did not stop too long. 

The Cliffs were precipitous, grassy ledges, where the 
meadows extended themselves to hang over the sea. 
Worn away by the ceaseless friction of the waves into 
the soft, clayey soil, there remained the treacherous, steep 
descents, hollowed out at the base into caves, Avhicli 
were cool retreats from sun and heat. Thither the 
ocean brought its treasures of kale-ribbon, and sea-weed, 
and curious shells, on the bosom of the tide, and de- 
posited them in the little recesses for safe keeping. 

Mr. Moran and Avis did not stop until they had 
reached almost the verge of the precipice, and there 
stood in mute admiration of the tumultous fury of the 
sea. Far in the distance they could see the dark green 
angry breakers roll sullenly up in long furrows, with a 
hollow roar, and then a white, boiling mass pour a 
flood of foam over the hardened sand-bed of the shore. 
Constantly rebuffed, yet constantly advancing, gaining 
fresh fury for each new attack, while the wind, like a 
bird of ill-omen, shrieked and moaned over the conflict 
of land and sea. Finally Avis spoke : — 

‘‘ They may call the sea cruel and treacherous, but I 
love it all the same ; do not you, Mr. Moran ? ” 

‘‘ I must confess, not so much as the mountains, 
although all phases of nature are most wonderful and 
attractive to me. But the sea is the emblem of unrest 


42 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


and instability, and the mountains, of tried endurance 
and rei)Ose. The mountains produce an elevation of 
feeling in me, both mental and physical, which draws 
me to the heights/’ 

"‘Do you not think the sea very solemn?” asked 
Avis. 

“ Yes, solemn from its immensity and force, and the 
mountains are solemn with a great-hearted strength, 
whose secret is hidden in silence and solitude. With 
their heads in the clouds, and a lofty outlook upon petty 
changes at their base, they learn the heavenly lesson of 
eternal patience and tolerance. Pardon so much senti- 
ment; I do not often indulge in such outbursts, but 
sometimes, you know, a sympathetic listener has proved 
too great a temptation for even a wiser man than i am.” 

I assure you, you need no allowance made. A man 
must be soulless who would not express some emotion 
at a scene like this. Do you know, 1 think it is a mis- 
take to suppose that the expression of those liner touches 
of feeling we call sentiment should usually be considered 
necessary of an apology, — treated on sufterance, as ifc 
were. Americans, I think, are peculiarly sensitive to 
the charge of what other nations regard as a merit ; and 
yet none possess more of the true poetic spirit, devoid 
of affectation, than the reputed worshipers of ‘ the 
Almighty Dollar.’ You perceive,” she added, laugh- 
ing, ‘‘ I have met your Roland with an Oliver. I think 
my outburst has been a little longer than yours.” 

‘^Not too long; at any rate, I am enjoying every mo- 
ment. Anxieties are slipping off from my mind, like 
mist from the mountains ! ” 

‘‘ Have you been so burdened with care that the relief 
is the first sense of enjoyment? ” 


A MIDSCWMjEH diversion. 


43 


‘‘ Nearly a life-time, Miss Langtry, duty has been the 
watchword ; of coarse there comes a certain sort of 
pleasure to be extracted from that. I am not sure but 
it is the most satisfactory kind, after all.” 

‘‘ One’s family and friends, however, are blessings not 
to be lightly esteemed,” said Avis. 

“Yes, I have a dear, good mother, and two nice sis- 
ters, and some tried and true friends, but did it never 
occur to you a man sometimes needs even more than 
this ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, I dare say one is always looking forward 
to the untried and the beyond ; but see, I fear that black 
cloud warns us to return. It looks as if it might burst 
on our heads at any moment, and really the mist has. 
thickened so fast I hardly know which way to turn ! ” 

As she spoke they perceived that a white vail of 
dense fog had arisen between them and the house, and 
hung its intangible curtain over every familiar sight and 
landmark. It was almost impossible to tell which vas- 
north, south, east, or west. They started quickly, how- 
ever, in the direction from which they had come, and 
after a rapid walk of sufficient duration to bring them 
to the house, found themselves still in the impenetrable 
cloud with no sign of habitation near. They called, but 
received no answer ; an awful silence pervaded the air. 
They laughed a little at the failure, and, sure it must be 
a little to the east, or a little more to the west, explored 
er.eh direction in turn, and still no sight appeared, no 
sound was heard. Both now looked more serious. Mr. 
Moran carefully considered the bearings and endeavored 
to retrace their steps to the cliff to recommence once 
more the homeward path. On, on tliey went, and now 
they heard the breakers loudly booming. They pushed 


44 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES, 


on still farther, and stood still to listen. The lifting of 
the gray curtain for a moment by the wind showed them 
they stood on the edge of a precipice, and a step or two- 
more might have sent them over its grassy edge. 

“ At least,” exclaimed Moran, as he shudderingly 
drew Miss Langtry back from the verge of land, and 
placed lier hand protectingly in his arm, at least we 
must keep away from the sea, — it is too dangerous! 
Can I ever forgive myself for exposing you to such a 
position as this ! We are entirely out of our reckonings 
that is certain, but we may still, by walking away from 
the shore, strike something that will guide us.” 

Do not disturb yourself for me,” replied Avis with 
true consideration ; the responsibility is as much mine 
as 3'ours — you know I ivould come.” 

All, j^ou cannot make me see it quite in that light, 
if you would,” he rejoined ; “ I hope you do not take 
cold easily?” — anxiously. 

Oh, no. I’m an old traveler, and hardy as a pine,” 
she answered lightly; “there, see, is not that dark 
shadow, just beyond, the coming event of the Dobbs’ 
mansion ? ” 

“We will explore, at any rate. It is better thaii. 
standing still.” 

The dark object seemed to come nearer. Hope ani- 
mated their hearts as they walked rapidly toward it,, 
when suddenly a little shriek from Avis brought them 
to a halt. Her foot was discovered to have sunk in the 
v/et mud of a swampy hollow, and the dark object that- 
liad lured them on was a group of low pepperidge trees 
growing therein. 

“What shall we do?” exclaimed Avis, with a littlo 
groan. “ Don’t you think they’ll search for us ? ” 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION. 


45 


Moran pulled out his watch, and calculated they had 
been oone at least more than an hour. 

Yes, they probably will,” he replied, “but it may 
take them two hours more to find us, and I am troubled 
at this exposure of you to fatigue and rain.” 

“ Oh, never mind me. I’ve considerable life left 5’et ! 
If you could suggest any ‘ new departure ’ I should gaily 
follow.” 

“Well, certainly I ought not to give up with such a 
cheerful little spirit at my side ; so, forward again 1 ” 

But although he spoke courageously, he was far from 
feeling unanxious. There was not a vestige of any- 
thing to guide them ; the moors extended for miles 
v/ithout a perceptible difference, or a single habitation. 
The lighthouse stood out on a narrow headland, three 
miles from Mr. Dobbs’ house. It was possible to be 
guided to that by sound, and a most thankful feeling 
arose in his breast, as he imagined he recognized the 
distant signal. 

“ Do you hear the fog-horn ? That must be from the 
lighthouse, and it comes from our right hand, so if we 
keep going toward it we shall approach the lighthouse, 
and tlien we shall find the path home.” 

Slowly they walked forward, straining their ears to 
catch the faint warning signal so im[)ortant to those at 
sea. At times the sound seemed almost stifled in the 
thickened air. At times Avis felt as if‘ this heavy pall 
was shrouding her alive for an eternal imprisonment. 
If she had not felt the human presence of Mr. Moran 
near her, and tlie reassuring, hearty tones of liis voice, 
the very unearthiiness of all around would have sent a 
chill to her heart, in spite of her determination ; she felt 
“ almost, that she had died in sleep, and was a blessed 


46 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES, 


o'host.” Gradually, through the darkness, huge shapes 
began to loom into enormous size. Larger and larger 
they grew. Still the two wanderers pressed on. The 
shapes were probably only fanciful. But now they be- 
gan to take form as heads — and lieads with eyes and 
horns. The whole air, above, around, was filled with 
these awful shaggy heads. If they advanced, the multi- 
tude advanced, too; they circled around them on every 
side. If they remained stationary the gleaming eyes 
became riveted upon and chained them to the spot. 

Avis began to tremble. See,” she cried, ‘Hhey sur- 
round us. They are animals. O, Mr. Moran, what can 
they mean?” 

I imagine,” said he, ‘‘they are one of those herds 
of wild cattle peculiar to these downs, but I am sur- 
prised they do not rush away when they see us.” 

“Let us stand perfectly still,” said Avis, “and per- 
haps they will do so soon. But is it not dreadful?” 

More terrified than she knew, for she had naturally a 
brave heart, she clung to Mr. Moran, and he was 
amazed as well as herself to find that the circle of wild 
cattle still increased about them, forming a perfect ring, 
and stood staring at them with their great wild eyes. 
Their rough, shaggy hides and huge forms appeared 
three times larger and more alarming in the deceptive 
mist. 

“O, Mr. Moran, what can we do?” whispered Avis, 
f(‘eling any moment the whole herd might spring upon 
tliem. “ What would I not give to hear another human 
voice ; even the Modoc’s scream would be the most 
welcome sound in the world.” 

“This is the strangest thing I’ve seen,” said Moran. 
“ They do not move at all, and to walk into them seems 


A MlDSrMJf/i/? DIVERSION. 


4T 


like walking into danger. Hallo ! 1 thought I heard a 

call. Yes; hallo! hallo I They are voices. One seems 
like Modoc’s yell.” 

Again he halloed, and still the solemn animals kept 
their gaze fixed on the couple in their midst, but the 
charm was broken. A great shouting and outcry was 
heard, and a waving of arms, legs and sticks. The 
animals turned their heads to see the cause, and as 
Modoc and Mr. Dobbs came running up they all with 
one accord dashed pell-mell over the downs and were 
lost in the distance. 

Modoc and Mr. Dobbs came up heated and excited. 

‘‘You were caught in one of those confounded rings 
the cattle make,” he exclaimed. “They would have 
braved you there for hours if we had not come up. The 
only way is to rush through the ring, and the charm is 
broken. Once do that, and tliey scatter like sheep. I 
hope you are not frightened to death. Miss Langtry? ” 

“She is as near it as possible,” answered Moran. 
“ We’ve been wandering about for hours.” 

“Well, we’ve been anxious about you for a long 
time. Mrs. Langtry is nearly frantic, and she threat- 
ened to come out and look for you herself. Mr. Dobbs 
and 1 came toward the lighthouse, but we couldn’t 
make much headway with hardly seeing a foot before 
ns. The others are searching in opposite directions, so 
we are the first to find you. These fogs last so long, 
and it’s such a waste, you might have been out all 
night.” 

“Are we far from the house now? ” asked Avis. 

“About two miles,” said Mr. Dobbs ; “ you were just 
between it and the lighthouse, and it’s well you had 
your faces turned in this direction.” 


48 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


“ I don’t know that we had much decision about it,” 
replied Moran ; ‘‘ the cattle kept our attention fixed on 
them, and the}’' rather drove us this wa}r.” 

“ Yes, they are the queerest critters,” said Dobl)S. 
‘‘ Did ye ever know that the Britishers were driven off 
our coast by just such a trick as they played you 
to-day.” 

“iJo,” said the gentlemen, “how was that?” 

“ Why, in the revolutionary war, a party of Britisheis 
landed here, in their ships, for plunder and forage. 
These cattle, which are awful wild, just surrounded 
them, and kept backing them up, until they got so 
scared they took to their heels and ran to the shore, the 
whole herd after them ; and then they got into their 
ships mighty quick, and never came near us again. You 
see, if any one runs from ’em, they will chase ’em ; but 
if you break their ranks, they ’ll scatter.” 

“ Oh, it was fearful ! ” shuddered Avis, the memory 
of it still impressing her. 

“ We were wishing for the sound of your voice, 
Modoc, when you appeared. What an angel of deliver- 
ance you proved ! ” 

“ Yes, Rome was delivered by the cackling of geese. 
Draw your own inference I ” 

“There’s a good many stories of people lost in the fog 
hereabouts, and being gone for days without being 
found,” vouchsafed Dobbs cheerfully, as they slowly 
journeyed on their homeward way ; and being encour- 
aged by Modoc, he detailed at length startling tales 
of wrecks at sea, and perils on land, with a zest and 
earnestness that was positively appalling. 

The party finally reached the house* Moran and Avis 


A M/DSC/im/E/i U/VEI?S/O.V. 49 

made their appearance in tlie little hall, bedraggled and 
wet, a most forlorn looking couple. 

Instantly they were met by an excited group 
poured upon them a volley of questions ; chief among 
them rose the voice of Mrs. Langtry, who demanded 
in high, irascible tones, what they had done to her 
daughter ; she was sure she was dead, or soon would be, 
and why had they not done something? — none could 
exactly understand what. 

Mr. Moran was almost overwhelmed by the various 
charges brought to bear upon him, but he quietly as- 
sured all he w^ould satisfy any inquiries if they would 
first urge Miss Langtry to go to her room, and without 
delay remove her wet garments. Being relieved from 
the voluble denunciations of the Voice, Moran led the 
way to the “ den,” and there satisfied the curiosity of the 
bachelors. As he concluded his explanations, Modoc 
observed, — 

'"It really looks, however, as if our friend Moran were 
engaged in a romance of the first water.- What would 
you have more ? Music, moonlight, love, and flowers, 
— or sea-grass if you prefer it, — and now heroine in 
frightful danger — hero gallantly perils his lite to save 
her — lieroine thanks him with tears in her eyes, and 
hero” — but Moran had already left the room, glad to 
escape from his tormentors by the necessity of a cliange 
of dress. 


50 


BACIlELOnS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


V. 

“ E’en Sunday shines no Sabbath day to me.” — Pope. 

At dinner that day neither Mrs. Langtry nor her 
daughter appeared. The Professor reported that the 
latter was onl}^ mucli fatigued, and might be able to 
come down in the evening. During the afternoon the 
parlor organ was heard groaning painfully under the 
vigorous [)resence of Mrs. Langtry’s fingers to the tune 
of Hold tlie Fort,” and hold it she did to the dismay 
of the musieuliy inclined, for she never relinquished 
the citiidel of the piano-stool for more than an hour. 

Feeling, my dear,” as she confided to Avis afterwards, 
“ that perhaps I might entice some of those lawless men 
to s[)end a profitable season under the influence of sa- 
crecl song,” 

If she had heard the conundrum that the Modoc pro- 
pounded to Mr. Norris, the good lady might have felt 
reiusoiiably discouraged. 

^"Norris,” whispered that incorrigible youth, vvitli a 
gTinuice and an indication of his thumb over his slionl 
der, ‘Hhe old lady is at it! Don’t you hear Iier call- 
ing for you to follow? Don’t you think it’s your duty 
to join her dulcet tones in thorough bass? Now I think 
of it, — can you tell me why she is like cliarity, men- 
tioned in Scripture ? No ; give it up ? Why, i)ecause 
her right hand knows not what her left hand doeth ! ” 

'"Modoc,” said Mr. Norris, after he had duly acknowl- 
edged the youth’s jest, and meditatively shaken off the 
ashes of his one after-dinner cigar, " do you know I 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION. 


51 


think we ought to recognize the Sabbath even here a 
little more than we do. Although I do not commend 
Mrs. Langtry’s tact, — or rather want of it, — I do ap- 
preciate her sincere religious s|)irit. What do you say 
to having service in the parlor this evening? Miss 
Langtry would help us with the singing and playing, 
and Mr. and Mrs. Langtry would be delighted, I know.” 

“All right,” responded Modoc, wlio was at heart a 
good-principled lad. “I’ll see that ‘ the garrison ’ is 
marshaled in good order, and that old Dobbs and wife 
suspend grubbing long enough to attend. Mind, seven 
o’clock, sharp ! ” 

At seven o’clock, sure enough, the united household 
were to be seen decorously seated in straight - backed 
chairs around the room. A little stand, with a kero- 
sene light, was at the right of Mr. Norris, upon whicli 
were placed his books. Miss Langtry presided at the 
organ, with two or three of the gentlemen as assistant 
choristers; Mr. and Mrs. Langtry sat side by side 
with hands folded, meekly inactive ; the Modoc, by the 
open window, calmed his exuberant spirits by alter- 
nately smoothing his turbulent hair and gazing out into 
the night. The cloudy photographs of departed rela- 
tives framed in black frames, or encircled in a halo of 
sea-shells and putty, looked dismally down from the 
walls ; but the little company were too cheerful to be 
easily disheartened by this funereal display of hard- 
featured men and angular women with expansive skirts 
and attenuated hairs. 

Mr. Norris’ remarks were earnest and well-chosen, 
and even his jocose companions felt benefited by his 
adaptation of religious truths to the diiily needs and 
temptations which each realized more or less. Even 


62 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


the Professor seemed deeply interested. Fastening his 
big blue eyes on the clergyman, he gave such unflag- 
ging attention that Mr. Norris felt greatly encouraged 
thereby. Alas, if he had but known the Professor’s 
thoughts ! A night-moth, a real had settled 

upon Mr. Norris’ coat, and had been gradually investi- 
gating his garments, going round and round as it as- 
cended his body, until it rested under the fold of his 
coat collar. It was a perfect specimen. The Professor 
had long wanted one for his collection ; his fingers 
ached to capture it, but propriety and decorum forbade 
his making any attempt for fear of interrupting the ser- 
vices. When they knelt for prayers, the Professor 
knelt too, but with his eyes intently fixed on the moth. 
Would it remain until they arose and it was proper to 
seize his prize ? The insect moved — it began to s])read 
its wings — a moment more and it might be out of the 
window. It was too much for the naturalist. He was 
just behind the clergyman; he raised himself on his 
knees, leaned forward, and with one quick and desper- 
ate clutch grasped the insect from the back of the as- 
tonished divine. The latter, feeling the sudden blow 
behind him, was divided between a natural curiosity to 
discover the cause and the solemnity of the occasion. 
Mrs. Langtry heard a movement at her side, and glanc- 
ing covertly around saw that the Professor was absent 
from his chair. Turning, she perceived the ardent en- 
tomologist in the snare of a great temptation. Her thin 
face crimsoned with mortification and a sense of irrev- 
erence. She seized the Professor by the end of his 
coat, and endeavored to drag him back into order. But 
he was too far gone to be easily replaced; he strug- 
gled in vain, — lost his balance, fell against his chair, 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION. 


53 


and both that and he tumbled ignominiously to the 
lloor. 

The prayer ended abruptly ; the company eagerly 
availed themselves of an opportunity to ascertain what 
the disturbance behind them had meant. There stood 
the Professor, the clergyman and Mrs. Langtry, all 
equally red in the face, and apparently equally con- 
fused. The Modoc, bolting from the room, was heard 
indulging in explosive laughter, and his friends sur- 
mised without difficulty that the inevitable war-dance 
was being enacted, notwithstanding the sacredness of 
the day* 

Poor Avis retired that night feeling the Sunday for 
her had been anything but a day of rest and refresh- 
ment. ‘‘Why had they ever come to this place, where 
annoyance and discomfort seemed heaped upon them?” 
She found herself growing to dislike these facetious 
bachelors who had witnessed so many scenes to the 
disadvantage of those dear to her. 

“No doubt they thought them fine subjects for ridi- 
cule and jest Excellent pastimes for amusement, tar- 
gets for private witticisms, to be retailed for the benefit 
of circles of friends ; yet ought she to include all of 
the group in her condemnation ? Certainly Mr. Moran 
seemed too kind and considerate to imagine his doing 
aught, even in private, to wound the most sensitive 
feelings, and was not Sir Roger the soul of chivalry ? 
But they must have heard the jocose remarks of the 
others when they were assembled in that rendezvous 
they called ‘the den.’” At the thought of what Mo- 
doc’s mischievous fancy might suggest, and the replies 
of the others, her cheeks burned with mortification and 
distress. “And then her dear, good father to be the 


54 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


point of their jest. No doubt he had appeared ridicu- 
lous, but how little they weighed against that, in their 
ignorance, his tender, true heart, his incorruptible 
lionor, his unselfishness, and his really important dis- 
coveries in the sciences to which he devoted his life, 
and which received an honored recognition from his 
compeers.” 

Avis’ love for her father was peculiarly strong. Be- 
tween him and herself there had always existed an un- 
derstanding that could not be shared by her mother, — 
little shades of feeling and perceptions of refinement 
which could not be defined. Her head ached as she 
sank to rest. In her uneasy dreams a voice like Mr. 
Moran’s seemed to mingle in a confused manner with 
the buzz of insects and the booming of the surf : she 
felt a cold, wet hand laid upon her arm, which sud- 
denly proved to be her sleeve wet with rain. Again, a 
rabid cow appeared pursuing her, and, when faced, 
turned into her mother, who reproached her for dis- 
turbing the evening service. She was glad when morn- 
ing brought the sunlight into her room, and put an end 
to sleep and dreams. 

The following day dawned as tranquil and sunny as 
if the storm of the previous night had transpired in 
another world ; only the sea rose and fell in great 
swells, like the sobs of a repentant child after its pas- 
sion. 

Roger Alliston had fully decided that Moran must 
have made great advances towards friendship if he had 
improved his opportunities during all those long hours 
of trouble he had spent with Miss Langtry the previ- 
ous day. 

‘‘No doubt he talked a lot of nonsense to her,” he 


A AfWSUAfMEPc DIFPPS/O.V. 55 

soliloquized savagely ; “ but if there are to be any more 
adventures I propose to bear a hand injself. Surely 
slie can never prefer such an ordinary man as Moran if 
I really exert myself in earnest.” With such thoughts 
vaguely defined in his mind, he encountered Miss Lang- 
try as she descended the stairs, and, after commiser- 
ating lier sad experience, declared she must now see 
the coast to advantage in his yacht. 

“It is a perfect day for a sail, and there are one or 
two points of view I should like you particularly to 
see. An artist like yourself would appreciate the effect 
of sea and land, which is rather peculiar just here. I 
hope you are not afraid ; I can assure you I have been 
accustomed to manage a yacht for years. If your 
mother will accompany us, tell her I will esteem it a 
great honor.” 

This remark he was emboldened to make from hear- 
ing Mrs. Langtry declare nothing could induce her to 
put her foot in a sail-boat. 

“ I am not at all afraid,” Miss Langtry replied, “but 
I can answer for my mother, I believe ; nothing would 
induce her to make the attempt. She will appreciate 
your invitation, however. I rarely go myself lest she 
should be distressed.” 

“But you will venture this time, will you not? I 
will promise not to keep you long ; and there is no dan- 
ger whatever.” 

Avis still rather demurred, but Mr. Alliston en- 
treated to be allowed to win over her mother, and so 
well conducted were his entreaties that Mrs. Langtry 
promised not to be alarmed if they returned within a 
certain time. Alliston ’s pleasure was extreme as he 
assisted Avis to a comfortable seat, and aiTanged her 


56 


BACIIEf.OnS AND BUTTERFLIES, 


shawl carefully about her shoulders, and observed that 
Mr. Moran was walking off in an opposite direction 
with a very disappointed expression upon his counte- 
nance. 

Alliston had invited Mr. Norris to join their party, 
but he knew that sensible man would withdraw to a 
proper distance, if need be, and become absorbed in a 
book or his own thoughts. 

Gaily the little vessel sped over the waves. Avis 
leaned back in the nicely-])repared seat provided for 
her, with the fresh salt air blowing in her face, and the 
handsome man at her side devotedly making himself 
agreeable by all manner of wit and anecdote. She 
thought she had never enjoyed anything more in her 
life. 

‘‘ You seem to have met a great many remarkable 
people,” remarked she, after he had detailed an adven- 
ture with some notable abroad. 

“ Yes ; I have seen a good deal of the world and a 
great deal of human nature, — not always the best side 
of it either. A man that has been knocking about as I 
have for so many years, learns not to expect much nor 
ask much from it. I have had my hopes and illusions 
like other men, but the world is bard, — it has broken 
them remorselessly. Sometimes I think all goodness 
and truth are only mere names for something that does 
not exist.” 

One should never do that,” said Avis gravely. 
“ One begins to drift on a perilous sea when he yields 
to such unbeliefs.” 

“ I often look back on my boyhood, and wish T could 
revive the innocent life and ingenuous trust I had then. 
Mine has been a sad experience, and I’ve often gone 


A MIDSC/MM£R DIVERSION, 


57 


far astray. The world’s been very treacherous, but I 
don’t excuse myself. I don’t know as I can ever be 
what I once hoped. Perhaps it would have been differ- 
ent if my mother had lived — at least, I love to think 
so. We rough men. Miss Langtry, need a woman’s 
love and care to anchor us to the right. You, in your 
quiet home, little know what temptations we have to 
endure. It is very easy for women to lead a religious 
life.” 

“Indeed, I think you underrate our peril,” said 
Avis. “ Temptations and trials come to us also, only 
perhaps in a different way ; and the very intensity of 
feeling which is usually ascribed to us makes certain 
trials peculiarly dangerous to our nature and settled 
belief.” 

“ I suppose belief is largely a matter of education. 
My mother was a deeply religious woman ; she brought 
me up conscientiously. Oh, if she had lived, I might 
have been a different man ! How I should have rever- 
enced her ! For her sake all women seem sacred to 
me, young and old ; but I cannot expect any to con- 
done my faults, and aid me in amendment as she would 
have done.” 

Avis felt that she, or any good woman, should be 
willing to assist this penitent sinner into ways of right- 
eousness when he so frankly confessed his faults and so 
Immbly desired direction. Little did she imagine that 
Sir Roger had not the slightest intention of changing 
his principles or his ways ; he liked to declaim against 
creeds and Christian inconsistencies, because it gave an 
appearance of independent judgment and superior wis- 
dom ; he liked to attribute his own shortcomings to 
their unwise attempts to make the world better, but he 


58 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


had no Ollier improved plan to offer, and troubled him- 
self very little nbout its mnendment or his own. 

‘‘It' your mother is do longer able to give you coun- 
sel, Mr. Alliston, you know there is still a Higher 
Power, the very fountain of Love and Wisdom, who 
promises aid to any who seek it,” and Avis’ voice trem- 
bled. 

“Ah, Miss Langtry, yours is a lovely faith, and such 
words show the elevation of your character. I would 
not injure it for the world by exposing its fallacy. 
Keep it if it gives you such comfort, and I wish I 
could possess the same trust as yourself. Perhaps I 
may learn again that unquestioning reliance if you will 
teach me.” 

She eagerly assured him she was willing to do all in 
her power ; and then, befoi*e she could anticipate the 
action. Sir Roger caught her hand and pressed it to his 
lips, murmuring, “You are an angel of goodness!” 

Avis blushed and quickly disengaged her hand; but 
the impassioned words and action had not been without 
their effect. Was it possible it was in her power to 
lead this handsome, courted, yet repentant, Roger 
Alliston into more excellent paths. She felt oppressed 
and solemnized by tlie responsibility. 

At this moment the captain called out for a change 
of their position, as he wished to swing around the 
sail. After they were again seated, Mr. Alliston said : — 

“ There is the view I mentioned; is it not fine ? You 
see I have studied your tastes sufficiently to understand 
what will please them. Just beyond there is a good 
inlet where we can make a landing ; then it* you do not 
mind a short walk we can reach the lighthouse, and 
take the view from the tower.” 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION, 




Miss Langtry and Mr. Norris consented, and found 
the view all that could be desired. The keeper and his 
wife were very affable, and piloted the way up the dark 
winding stair to the top of their sea-girt home with much 
alacrity and pride. 

‘‘Don’t you ever grow weary of the waves?” asked 
Avis. “All day and night, from one year’s end to an- 
otlier, you must hear them, and in all seasons.” 

“ Oh, no, mam,” the man replied. “ I’d be real lone- 
some Avithout them. They has different voices in ’em, 
so as I seems to know what they’re sayiu’, and it’s like 
people talkin’. When I go away for a night, I miss ’em 
so I can’t sleep.” 

All the party were somewhat tired when they emerged 
from the house, and Alliston proposed their resting on 
the rocks near by for a short time before they returned 
to the yacht. 

The sky was sunny and bright, the sea tranquil, and 
fondly lapping the rocks and sands at their feet. Aliis- 
ton, in reaching for some seaweed for Miss Langtry’s col- 
lection, dropped a small book from his pocket, and his 
friend rescued it from the water. 

“ What book 'is that, Mr. Alliston ? ” asked Avis mis- 
chievously. “ Does it contain tales of romance, or ro- 
mantic tales about yourself, oris it only a stupid account 
book disguised in a pretty binding ? ” 

“ I do not know whether it will interest you or not,” 
replied Alliston, seating himself just in advance of her, 
but in such a position as to give a good view of her hice. 

The best way to discover that is to read some 
aloud ! ” 

Whereupon he began Avith Longfellow’s “ Drift- 
wood,” as being appropriate, and gradually introduced 


60 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES, 


those of a more tender sentiment. At last he finished 
with Browning’s Camoens ” and Tennyson’s '•"Gen- 
evieve ; ” and the loving words suffered no diminution 
in feeling from the rendering given by our present 
knight. Indeed, Alliston confessed to himself that 
Miss Langtry’s beautiful face was an inspiration in it- 
self, and for the time she seemed to him his lovely 
“ guileless Genevieve,” worthy of as devoted love and 
admiration as the poet had given to the maiden fair.” 

It chanced Avis had never heard the verses read 
aloud, and had no previous idea how much they might 
be made to convey. As the mellow tones of Sir Roger's 
voice still sang in her ear, the subtle magnetism of the 
man began to influence her, and she was fast approaching 
the point when that voice would sound sweeter and 
more desired than any in the whole world beside. 

Mr. Norris had stretclied himself in the sand, not far 
off, and with a hankerchief thrown over his face was 
basking in the sun. Although he could not see, he 
could hear ; and what he heard led him to soliloquize 
thus : — 

"‘Reading ‘Genevieve’ to her, is he? — that far al- 
ready! Well, he has not lost much time I I did not 
think he would '‘care for her ’ though, with such a ven- 
geance. She’s lovely enough to excuse any devotion. 
Whew! I do believe I’ve been doing duty as a cat’s-paw 
to-day I Why did n’t he ask Moran to come too ? they 
used always to go out together. Ah, yes ; I see, — 
Moran was inclined ‘ to take care of the young lady 
also’! Well, I’m sure I don’t know to Avhich one I 
ought to give my blessing ! Alliston has the best 
prospects, and is the handsomest, and very enter- 
taining ; but I’m not sure his family would ever accept 


A M/VSU3IMI:R DIVEBSIOJV. 


61 


with composure Mrs. Langtry as a mother-in-law. 
Moran has the most reliable nature, and, I believe, 
is one of the most thoroughly sincere, best - hearted 
fellows in the world; and fine talents too, though he 
has so little self-esteem you couldn’t make him think 
so. I really don't know but the girl’s chances for hap- 
piness would be best with him. Heigh-ho ! I wonder 
who’ll win! Wouldn't the rest enjoy it if I could 
only open my lips, and tell what ‘ mine eyes have seen, 
and mine ears have heard ; ’ but no, honor forbids I I 
must imitate the wise and close-mouthed oyster ! ” 

‘‘ Come, Norris, we are going 1 ” called out Alliston, 
and soon they were all once more sailing over the waves, 
homeward bound, to gladden the heart of Mrs. Langtry 
by accounts of a most enjoyable day, and no unpleasant 
episodes to alarm or delay them. 

“ Since everything has gone so well, I hope you 
will trust Miss Langtry with me again ? ” said Alliston 
as he was exchanging good-nights wdth Mrs. Langtry 
that evening ; that is, if she will do me the favor to 
go ; for there is another view she ought to sketch, just 
beyond where we were to-day.” 

‘‘Confound him,” thought Moran, who overheard the 
remark ; “ does he think, because he possesses a yacht, 
there are no other methods of entertainment, and so he 
is to monopolize her society entirely? ” Already there 
was only one person in his mind who occupied that sig- 
nificant prominence, which needed no name to define 
her. 

“ I wonder if she knows that notwithstanding his 
devoted airs, he has frittered his sentiment away in a 
dozen flirtations ! She is too good for him, — my sweet, 
pure, guileless rose — queen of women I ” The adjec- 


62 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


tives strung themselves along in his mind, and seemed 
to deepen his affection by their very expression. Nei- 
ther did this infatuated man think to ask if he himself 
was worthy to love this maiden, radiant, fair and beauty 
laden ; only he had grown severely critical in regard to 
the character of all wdio might be regarded in the light 
of aspirants for her hand. 


VI. 

“ I come from haunts of coot and heron, 

I make a sudden sally.” — Tennywtt. 

The following morning Miss Lafigtry was reported to 
have a severe neuralgic headache, and throughout the 
beautiful summer day she lay in her room with the win- 
dows darkened, wliile the men down stairs wondered at 
the unwonted dullness that seemed apparent when her 
hright face failed to appear. Two of them, especially, 
looked forward to the evening as the time that would 
certainly restore her to their company ; but evening 
came and Avis did not appear. The Modoc expressed 
the disappointment of the little company when he la- 
menlingiy said he didn’t know what to do, if Miss 
Langtry was not to come down ! Wlio would sing or 
play for them ; no one else kept the right time? ” 

It was past ten o’clock when Avis felt the pain in her 
head subsiding. All was silent in her mother’s room ; 
probably she had gone to sleep. Her mouth felt parched 


A MIDSC/AfM£E DIVERS 10 jV, 


63 


and dry, and she discovered the forgetful Mrs. Dobbs 
liad left no cool fresh water in her room. She knew 
there was plenty down stairs, just outside the dining- 
room, but in order to reach it she must pass the door of 
‘‘ the den.” 

She had filled her pitcher and was on her way back, 
when the sound of voices raised in expostulation, and 
the odor of cigars, made her aware that the den ” still 
had occupants. 

The voice of the Colonel in measured tones : — 

‘‘ I don’t suppose she has much fortune, for those Pro- 
fessors are never rich, but her face would be a fortune 
to any man ; and you have enough money for both. 
You could not do better, Alliston, than go in ; especially 
if our friend Miss Andrews don’t hear of it, and inter- 
fere ! That would be awkward ! ” 

‘‘I tell you. Colonel, again,” rejoined hotly, — those 
mellow accents she recognized as Alliston’s, — there is 
nothing in this affair. Miss Langtry is well enough for 
those that like that style; she is as good a little girl as 
ever lived; gave me some excellent advice the other 
day, — a little too like preaching for me to follow, but 
she meant it all right, — but as to marrying, by Jove, I 
never could endure such a mother-in-law ! Why, she’d 
have worried the best saint in tlie calendar into swear- 
ing, if he’d lived with her a month ! My tastes are all 
aristocratic ; and I must say, I wouldn’t appreciate a 
diamond when it’s uncut, or relish the society of a 
blundering, unpolished old woman, even if she has a 
pretty daughter to sweeten the do^e.” 

Alliston had worked himself up into an extreme of 
language, of which he himself was hardly awai’e, in his 
efforts to vindicate himself from the charges his friend 


64 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


had brought against him. He was more interested in 
Miss Langtry than he cared to acknowledge ; he felt the 
charm of her unaffected nobleness and sincerity in con- 
trast to the many superficial women he so frequently 
met, but, inconsistent human nature, the more con- 
scious he felt of a desire to win this prize at any cost, 
the more vehement were his protestations of indifference 
and his denial of efforts in that direction. 

What were the feelings that surged through the brain 
of the young girl thus coolly discussed ? She had heard 
the whole ; and the deep flush of anger and mortifica- 
tion that suffused her face had not vanished when she 
reached her room, and, closing the door, sank into a 
chair, exhausted. 

Was this the courtly Sir Roger, with his deferential 
ways and polite attentions, who professed to have such 
a reverence for women and old age?” The words burnt 
tiiemselves into her soul: ‘‘nothing serious,” “for those 
that like that style,” “good, but too much like preach- 
ing,” — was this, then, what he really thought when he 
expressed himself so grateful for her sympathy and kind- 
ness? when he praised her faith and earnestness? Her 
mother, too, — “ a blundering old woman,” and he “ too 
aristocratic ” to tolerate her, — no doubt he had amused 
his lordly nature with them all. 

Ah, Sir Roger ! Sir Roger ! what a lesson in the in- 
sincerity of this foolish world have you taught this trust- 
ing, tender, ingenuous heart. Never more can slie ]*e- 
luaiii satisfied with things unproven ; content to accept 
superficialities, hoping all things, thinking no evil. 
Never more answer entreaties of human need as warmly, 
or heartily, without thought of suspicion. Into tlie 
crystal fountain has been thrown the root of bitterness ; 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION. 


65 


alas, for the years whose experience shall strengthen it ! 
Ah, cruel the fate and sad the hour that opens sweet 
eyes, blind to life's falsities; that wounds tender hearts, 
whereby they retreat into a citadel of pride, that con- 
ceals their truest and best impulses. 

The remains of her headache was a sufficient excuse 
for Miss Langtry’s non-appearance at breakfast. She 
felt unequal to offering that cold reception to Mr. Allis- 
ton which must call for an explanation, and yet, to treat 
him in as friendly a way as formerly was incompatible 
with her frank disposition. When at last she was con- 
vinced that all the gentlemen had departed on various 
expeditions, she seized her hat and sketch-book, and 
telling her mother she was going to try the tonic of the 
air, directed her steps to a pretty little retreat she had 
discovered near the shore. She had not been there long 
before she heard steps approaching, and Mr. Moran ap- 
peared, and after expressing his pleasure at seeing her, 
flung himself down by her side. 

Both he and Alliston had waited for some time, in the 
vain hope that Miss Langtry would appear. Both had 
a pleasure trip to propose, but finally Alliston, in de- 
spair, had yielded to the solicitations of his friends, and 
gone off with them, leaving Moran alone to watch the 
field. 

‘‘ I may as well confess, without any pretence,” be- 
gan that gentleman, that I saw you come down here ; 
and I am in such a miserable, demoralized condition 
that I hope you will take pity on me, and not send me 
awa}^” 

Avis wondered if this was another supplicant for her 
sympathy and comfort, who would prove equally un- 
grateful as the last. 


66 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES, 


“ Don’t talk, if you don’t feel inclined,” he continued. 
“I only beg for permission to be idle in good society.” 

‘‘Well, sir, where are all your companions ? I should 
suppose you and your great friend, Mr. Alliston, would 
be improving this lovely day by enjoying his yacht, 
which I see rocking on the waves over there.” 

“ Why do you say ‘ my great friend ? ’ ” asked Moran, 
looking at her with a penetrating gaze. 

“ Because I understood him to say the other day that 
you and he were the best of friends.” 

“ Hardly that, I think ; ” and Moran frowned. “ Mr. 
Alliston often says rather more than he means.” 

“Ah, indeed, that is very true,” mentally commented 
Avis as he continued, — 

“We are the best of acquaintances, but not intimate 
friends.” 

“ Possibly then it may grow into that if the acquain- 
tance continues long enough.” 

“ Not if it lasted a life-time ? Mr. Alliston’s opinions 
and principles coincide so little with mine we could 
never agree sufficiently for friendship ; not but that he 
is a fine fellow,” he added, magnanimously, determining 
he would not harm even a rival by secret disparagement. 
“ But, you see. Mis Langtry, we look at things from an 
entirely different standpoint. Alliston has had all the 
advantages of fortune and leisure to cultivate the aes- 
thetic side of life, while I have had to meet the world 
without gloves, and have been so busy doing I have not 
had much time for sentiment or abstract moralizings.” 

“ Sentiment degenerates into weakness when not ac- 
companied by practical work,” said Avis, remembering 
lier experience ; “ and moralizing leads to skepticism, 
someiinies, when conducted in a selfish spirit.” 


MIDSUMMER DIVERSION. 


6T 


These two tliouglitfal young people were very apt 
to fall into conversations wherein they discussed the 
^‘deep things of life/’ ‘‘ the hidden mysteries,” at very 
short notice, and with much right of private judg- 
ment.” It became very delightful to find that the 
views held sacred and secret in their own hearts for 
fear of misunderstanding, when revealed to the other, 
were so readily accepted and appreciated. 

Thus this afternoon became only the prelude to many 
more, when she sketched or painted, and he lounged 
near, both learning to know each other’s nature better, 
while they imagined they were merely reviewing the 
deeds of others. 

That evening Avis found lying on her dressing-table 
a package addressed to her. Opening it, she was sur- 
prised to find a handsomely bound volume of Tenny- 
son, with the cpmpliments of Mr. Alliston, and a note 
in which he entreated her to accept the book for the 
sake of the summer idyl they had enjoyed together. 
He believed she would like to review some of the 
poems mentioned.” The book was marked at different 
places, and at the poem of ‘‘ Genevieve ” lay a piece of 
the seaweed he had been at such pains to obtain for 
her. 

A feeling of anger rose in her heart at the sight of 
these souvenirs. Did he think still to impose upon 
her with these delicate reminders i He liked to en- 
courage interest and sympathy on her part, no doubt, 
wliile lie kept himself coolly free from all serious inten- 
tions. Yes, she decided, it was better to have the mat- 
ter understood at once. She was no coquette to care 
for the attentions of a man she did not trust ; so wrap- 
ping the book up carefully, she wrote with it the 


68 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES, 


words, The daughter of a ‘ blundering, unpolished old 
woman ’ cannot appreciate the compliment offered her, 
and tlierefore begs to return to Mr. Alliston his volume 
of poems just received.” 

When this package and its missive were handed to 
Mr. Alliston, he was thunderstruck at its contents. At 
first he could not imagine what it meant ; but after- 
wards, in a private consultation with the Colonel, the 
latter recalled to his mind the epithets he had applied 
to Mrs. Langtry. 

‘‘ Do you think it possible any one could have over- 
heard us the other night ? ” and a dark flush rose to 
Alliston’s brow ; you know we said a lot of things 
that would not sound well told outside.” 

“ Those were the very words you used, I am sure, 
my dear fellow,” answered the Colonel. How in the 
world did she get hold of them ? Well, it’s all up with 
you now, my boy, in that quarter. If I were you, I’d 
take a week’s yachting down the sound.” 

But I hate to leave her thinking so meanly of me 
as she must do if she heard my hot words. She must 
think I’m a perfect fraud.” 

‘‘Well, you can explain all that when you return,” 
said the Colonel; “just now you both want time to cool 
off ; you’d better let me announce that you have heard 
from friends who are waiting for you to meet them im- 
mediately, and, — depart to-morrow. I’ll write you 
how things go on, and you’ll soon be back to manage 
affairs ‘ a la discretion.’ ” 

This plan was thereupon enacted, and in the hurried 
adieux necessary there was no time for embarrassment 
or explanations. A quick clasp of the hand, and a 
parting wish for a pleasant trip, were all the world saw 


A 3fnjsi7jn/7;:n div/jJBSion. 


69 

or heard of the social drama enacted between these 
two. 

It was one of those summer afternoons when all na- 
ture seemed to sleep in a drowsy calm. Moran, more 
silent than usual, and Miss Langtry had walked to the 
sea, descended the precipitous bank, and arrived at the 
water’s edge. His fishing lines and basket proclaimed 
his intention of fishing (that is, when he started), her 
sketch-book and colors, her resolve to paint ; but the 
quiet beauty of the scene, and the dreamy repose, 
seemed to forbid all exertion. 

It had become a common thing now for these two 
members of Mrs. Dobbs’ family to saunter out togetlier, 
each apparently with serious designs of useful occupa- 
tion ; but the amount accomplished did not warrant 
very sanguine expectations on the part of the observer. 
The remaining bachelors had dutifully and faithfully 
urged his presence in all the usual sporting and fishing, 
but finding his interest therein had suddenly grown 
lukewarm, and his attention to preliminary plans not 
to be depended upon, they held a consultation and 
resolved unanimously that Moran had gone over body 
and soul to the fair enemy, and to all intents and 
purposes must be counted out.” 

He’s struck badly, you know,” said the Colonel, 
“ and I am uncertain yet whether he’ll recover ; but 
we’ll see him through, poor fellow. It’s a bad case, 
you know, and it’s a thousand pities he should give up 
just now when the birds are commencing to &y thick. 
Can’t be helped, though, I suppose. I’m afraid he’s a 
lost bachelor.” 

Though lost to sight, to memory dear,” repeated 
the Modoc, and began humming drearily, — 


70 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES, 


“Five little Indians lived in Labrador, 

One got married, and then there were four.” 

Meanwhile the young people down by the sea were 
enjoying themselves undisturbed by the critical com- 
ments of their friends. 

Moran began fishing industriously, but after a few 
casts of the line, without result, gave it up, and took 
his seat near the rock Miss Langtry had selected for 
the foreground of her picture. They were sitting in an 
ampitheatre made by high cliffs whose grassy tops 
seemed to tower to the sky. In front w^as tlie quietly 
sleeping sea ; the green of the nearest Avaves melted 
into the blue of deeper ones, Avhile the blue again 
merged into violet, and that shaded so gradually into 
the horizeii one could hardly discover the dividing line. 
A flock of white gulls hovering and dipping into the 
Avater a short distance beyond betrayed the presence of 
blue -fish, but Moran’s mind Avas evidently far removed 
from blue-fish and fishing. He AA’as Avatching the deft 
fingers of Avis, as the outline of her picture grew 
under her skillful touch, and glancing furtively into the 
large, thoughtful eyes that alternately rested on the 
landscape and then on the paper before her. The sub- 
tile cliarm of this young girl’s presence, as Avell as the 
purity and depth of her character, had insensibly crept 
into his thoughts and heart, and, struggle against it as 
he would, the conviction deepened that Avith her, life 
Avoiild seem a path of sunshine, and Avithout her, a 
dreary, joyless line of simple duty. 

She certainly had not at least repulsed him ; would 
she go farther ? ” 

At present Miss Langtry Avas endeavoring to convey 


A DIVERSION, 


71 


the impression produced by an Indian lad, who, leaning 
up against a rock, with his bait-basket beside him, and 
his line thrown into the sea, looked the picture of sto- 
lidity and resignation. The fish might bite, or take 
their time, he was content to wait, and not a ray of ex- 
citement or annoyance was discernible upon his sun- 
burnt face. An old straw hat with tattered brim was 
on his head ; he wore no jacket, and his bare feet were 
thrust deeply into the yielding sand. 

Mr. Moran leaned on his elbow and glanced at the 
sketch, as he remarked : — 

‘‘You must be a good analyzer of faces to define so 
readily and exactly the character of your subject. The 
expression you have given to this fisher-boy, for instance, 
is so typical of his race and education.” 

“ I am more fond of studying faces than even the de- 
tails of a landscape ; but it has come partly by neces- 
sity. Traveling as we do, so much of the time, the 
knowledge is a shield I must quickly advance for my 
own safeguard. Papa is too unobservant to be much 
of a defence, and my mother has unlimited charity to 
bestow on any one, even a stranger ; so I have learned 
to form my own estimate of a person in a very short 
time.” 

“Ah, that is that wonderful faculty you women pos- 
sess, which is like the bird’s instinct; I suppose you 
could not reason it out. I wonder — yes, I wonder very 
much — Avhat sort of an ‘ estimate,’ as you call it, you 
have made of our hunters’ club here ! W ould you mind 
drawing a mild outline of what we seem to be, and 
what we may be ? — a sort of mental and moral photo- 
graph, you know ? ” 

“And run the risk of having my sketches, thus 


72 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


drawn, appropriated nolens volens ? No, indeed ! The 
analyzing of friends for another is dangerous business, 
— it is so difficult to avoid being biased by one’s preju- 
dices.” 

Friends, did you say ? ” and Moran leaned nearer. 
“Will you adopt us as friends ? I was afraid you would 
think us all too lawless a set.” 

“ Does the name include so much ? I am sure I 
ought to preserve a friendly spirit for those who have 
shown me consideration.” 

“Ah, Miss Langtry,” and Moran spoke in deep low 
tones, with his eyes fixed on her face, “if you knew 
how much I should like to do., you might withdraw your 
favor ! In the meanwhile I shall cling to the position of 
friend, until perhaps, sometime — when you have known 
me longer and better, — then, do you — could you — 
ever — ? ” 

The frightened, surprised blush rushed quickly over 
the lovely face before him, but his words were inter- 
rupted by a crashing, mysterious noise just over their 
heads, which made them both start to their feet. A 
large butterfly was just fluttering from the edge of the 
cliff, and flew far away from their sight, disappearing in 
the tranquil summer sky. 

Again the mysterious falling and rattling ; a prodig- 
ious sliding of gravel and stones, followed by hasty ex- 
clamations and cries, and then — the body of the Pro- 
fessor, hatless and breathless, was propelled unexpect- 
edly almost at his daughter’s feet accompanied by an 
avalanche of earth, sticks and stones. His net he still 
grasped in one hand, a bundle of weeds, wrenched up in 
his descent, in the other. 


A MIDSCrMA2^Ii:il DIVERSION. 


73 


The surprise was as great to the two lovers as to the 
unhappy naturalist himself. 

‘‘ Why, father ! Where did you come from ? ” cried 
Avis, as she sprang toward him, and helped the Pro- 
fessor to rise and stand upon his feet. ‘‘Have you 
dropped from the clouds in this plight? ” 

“No, daughter, not quite, — I am not an angel! I 
was just about catching a fine cecropia I He was near 
the edge of the cliff, and I had my net almost over him, 
— when I missed my footing, — the soil is so treacher- 
ous, and down I came, and as you see, here I am — at 
your service ! ” And the little man took off his hat, 
made a low bow, and wiped his healed face. 

Are you not hurt, father? ” inquired Avis tenderly. 

“ Oh, nothing to speak of,” but the Professor rubbed 
his shoulder ruefully. “ It is the cecropia I regret — a 
fine specimen, and it wholly escaped I And with what 
were you amusing yourselves?” he asked pleasantly, 
smiling blandly upon the young couple. 

“ Only trying to make ourselves comfortable this hot 
day,” quickly explained Moran. 

“ Ah, comfortable, are you ? That ’s right I I be- 
lieve I’ll make myself comfortable also, and we’ll spend 
the rest of the afternoon together. That will be pleas- 
ant, I am sure!” So saying, not noticing the lack of 
cordial response to his last question, he calmly laid aside 
his net in a fissure of a rock, and settled himself in 
a seat beside Avis, while Moran bit his moustache in 
vexation. 

“ Let me see some of your sketches, daughter ? It is 
long since I’ve looked at any. What is that ? a fish in 
the water ? Oh, yes, I see now ; I had it turned upside 
down, — a boy standing against the sky. Yes, they’re 


74 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


all very good — don’t you think so, Mr. Moran? — no 
doubt, very good indeed! Avis, I’m sure, has true talent, 
although I am not much of a judge myself,” looking at 
her with fatherly pride ; ‘‘but now suppose you turned 
your attention, daughter, to subjects more useful in 
their character. Say, instead of idle little Indian boys, 
and dirty children, that one can meet everywhere, you 
illustrated the wonderful creations of the insect world, 
or something like that. You would find scope for all 
your colors in butterflies’ wings alone. How would 
that do ? Is n’t it a good idea ? Why, a friend of mine 
in Dusseldorf had seven daughters ; and he had each 
one paint a moth or butterfly every day, and seven hap- 
pier girls you never saw I Some of their works he had 
framed, and I was delighted with the collection. I 
would gladly have bought all their specimens of beetles 
for our college.” 

In vain Moran craftily tried to lead the Professor’s 
thoughts off on a fresh expedition that day, if only to 
secure his absence for an hour. While those last vv^ords 
he had addressed to Avis were only half urged, — only 
partly explained, — how could he patiently listen to an 
enthusiast in entomology. His entire interest was con- 
centrated in the one being before him who was to him 
nature’s fairest creation in the expression of her face, 
the language of her eyes. Nature might have a thous- 
and tongues ; he cared only for the words that could 
come from one. 

But the Professor was in one of his rare talkative 
moods, and, encouraged by such apparently attentive 
and silent listeners, he descanted upon the best method 
of arranging museums, the different classifications held 
by various naturalists, and the course pursued at his 


A MIDSC/3JMFB DIVERSION. 


75 


own college with its reeommendations, until Moran was 
in despair, and firmly vowed never to be a man with a 

hobby/’ 

“ This coast presents a most favorable field for observ- 
ing liabits of certain mollusks, as well as lepodoptera.” 

Have you given much attention to this interesting 
study, Mr. Moran ? ” 

“ I must say my consideration has been chiefly con- 
fined to the frisky mosquito. I often wonder if he is 
not a wholly erratic individual, subject to no Itiws that 
govern other well-regulated insects, but influenced 
solely by a selfish, insane desire to destroy human life.” 

The mosquito, sir ! why, the mosquito is one of the 
most interesting and useful members of the Insectivora. 
He possesses powers of intelligence that are seldom 
equaled — ” 

‘‘ Oh, papa, we do not doubt that,” interrupted Avis, 
laughing, ‘‘ we will give him full credit for astonishing 
perseverance and capability.” 

Yes, a sort of diabolical intelligence, I should say,” 
added Moran. ‘‘ I have a most thorough awe and 
respect for the intuitions of the mosquito. I should 
jiever search for specimens, however.” 

“No, of course not,” rejoined the Professor, “and yet 
such wonderful phenomena are to be found in the little 
creatures around us on every hand, that it is amazing 
people are so blind and indifferent to a vast world of 
life and action. Think of the bees’ political, social, 
mechanical and sanitary measures for the regulation of 
society in a hive. We might gain some lessons from 
such a well-conducted monarchy. And reflect how 
much in regard to their habits was discovered by a blind 
man ! ” 


76 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


Yes, I am persuaded if we business men would de 
vote a portion of our leisure time to some outside pur- 
suit, either scientific, artistic, musical, or mechanical, 
we should add greatly to the zest of life, besides finding 
in it a recreation at once agreeable and useful.” 

“You are most certainly right,” cried the Professor 
with delight. “ Why, think of Edwards,” and the good 
man emphasized his words with his right hand and arm 
outstretched. “ A poor shoemaker ! Obliged to spend 
every moment of the day at his last, uneducated, with 
no advantages, and no encouragement, surmounting 
difficulties that would have crushed the spirit of most 
men — and so filled with the thirst for knowledge as to 
contribute collection after collection, classified and 
arranged, to different museums of natural history, and 
rise to be a prominent member of the Royal Society 
itself I It makes us blush for our negiigenee and indo- 
lence, sir, — it does indeed ! ” 

“ The Modoc appears to be much interested in these 
pursuits, does he not?” inquired Moran; “I wonder 
where he is this afternoon.” 

“ He is a youth of considerable ability,” replied the 
Professor, “ but I fear he is of too volatile a tempera- 
ment to distinguish himself in this capacity.” 

“ There he is at this moment,” exclaimed Avis, “ no 
doubt returning to tea ; and I think we should make 
preparations to follow liis example.” 

Yes, the hours had waned, and the afternoon slipped 
away, and although it might be pleasant to converse 
with one's prospective father-in-law at certain times, it 
was not at this stage of the proceedings that Moran 
wished most ardently for the good gentleman’s society. 
The setting sun illuminated them with golden beams, as 


A MIDSr/M3IE/i DIVERSION. 


77 


they clambered up the steep path which led to the scene 
of the Professor’s untimely fall ; but while Moran still 
held his place by Avis’ side, the Professor held to him, 
and thus in apparent affability they returned to their 
temporary home with Mr. Dobbs. 


78 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


VII. 

Thus when T shun Scylla, your father, 

I fall into Charybdis, your mother.” 

— Merchant of Venice, 

After the adventure under the cliffs, several days 
elapsed before Avis and Mr. Moran saw much of each 
other. He watched in vain for an opportunity to com- 
plete that important sentence, to utter the words that 
tilled his heart. 

Attain and aoain had he endeavored to arrange bis 
thoughts in such fashion as would best please her ear ; 
now it was in well-rounded peiiods, with the subject ap- 
proached by skillful advances, and then — it seemed 
best to throw eloquence to the winds, and let a few 
blunt words tell the story, until, finalty, hyp;ercriiical 
over every suggestion, he determined to let time and 
circumstances decide. 

Avis either provokingly kept to her room, or seemed 
always in company with some one else. She dreaded the 
observations of the inquisitive bachelors, should they 
suspect the disaffection of one of theii* number to their 
interests and aims ; but her heart would sometimes mis- 
give her when she saw Moran so persistently refusing 
the entreaties of his friends to join their parties for 
hunting and fishing. They frankly admitted he vvas 
“spoony — awfully spoony.” “He’s after other game, 
you see, and he thinks no one sees it!” declared the 
Modoc, impartially, “but I keep my left eye open for 
these little affairs, especially. Oh, I’ll watch him like 


A M7VSC/MMER D/VERS/OJV. 


79 


» mother, — or a mother-iii-law, which is the next thing 
to it, and as strong as I can go ! ” 

And Avatch liim he did, — not in an open, direct man- 
ner, but in a series of opportune encounters lie made his 
suspicions felt. Now it was his peculiar air of extreme 
consideration that exasperated Moran, as if he were a 
plant that needed guarding and tending ; or now the re- 
sponsive intonation he gave to remarks which made them 
seem fraught with a deeper meaning than intended, and 
provoked a smile ; no occasion was safe. Did Moran at- 
tempt to read aloud, the fervent agreement and applause 
elicited by any romantic recital, brought home ^‘the 
moral, and adorned the tale.” 

Avis, although not included in these attacks, Avas 
conscious that Mr. Moran Avas running a gauntlet, and 
she Avas most anxious to avoid occasion or oppoi tunity 
for its exercise. 

The brightest day must have its ending, and the Pro- 
fessor announced, finally, that their stay must draw to 
a close. He Avished to spend half his A^acation at the 
seashore, and tlie rest in the mountains. Already more 
time than usual had been passed at the coast, and he 
Avas anxious to visit the Adirondacks, while the prospect 
of capturing several kinds of lepidoptera Avas particu- 
larly favorable. There remained only a day intervening 
before their departure ; and at dinner Mrs. Langtry in- 
formed the company of their intention to leave on the 
morroAV. 

Moran felt his spirits depressed, but ‘‘faint-heart,” 
&c., Avith its trite but comforting maxim occurred to his 
mind, and he determined on a bold move. 

“ JMrs. Langtry, you have not yet taken a sail on 
‘Great Pond,’ Imve you?” he quietly asked. “It is a 


80 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


pity you should leave Moiitauk without a fair idea of 
all its attractions.” 

‘‘ No, neither Avis nor I have been there, and it will 
never do to go away without doing so. I wonder no 
one has spoken before of making up a party, and going 
together! I’m sure I would have been ready if they 
had wanted some one to ^ matronize ’ it. I would go this 
afternoon, if I could.” 

Was there a shade of regret in her voice that indicated 
inability to accept, if an invitation was given? Moran 
fancied so. Turning promptly to Miss Langtry, he 
craftily asked if she could make it convenient to go after 
dinner, and — ‘‘I shall be happy to have Mrs. Langtry 
accompany us, if she will,” disregarding the vicious kick 
the Modoc administered under the table for his un- 
blushing prevarication. He mentally resolved, if the lat- 
ter lady did consent, he would find some way to allow 
her solitude and reflection. 

To his delight, she replied that she had made an ap- 
pointment that very day to receive three poor children, 
who were promising results of her mission established 
among the fishermen ; as it was a farewell visit she 
would not disappoint them ; otherwise, she would need 
no urging. 

Avis consented, but said as her father was going 
nearly there later, she would walk over with him. 

Moran went on in advance to secure a boat, and felt, 
at last, the Fates were propitious. “ The weather fair, 
the Professor in one direction, the ‘ Voice ’ safely at 
home, and Miss Langtry alone with me in the boat, I 
will trust myself to keep the shore and all intruders 
safely at a distance until that question is disposed 
of!’^ 


A MlDSUm/ER DIVERSION, 


81 


So gaily he departed, with eager thoughts intent; he 
did not notice the sly glances of his companions, or the 
mischievous and ill-omened appearance of Modoc’s face. 

“ Gone like a lamb to the slaughter! ” exclaimed the 
youth, sotto voce, “ Even the thought of such a mother- 
in-law can’t stop him now.” 

The best boat to be had at “ Great Pond ” was se- 
cured, and several little fisher lads were enabled to 
earn a few pence by scrubbing out the bottom, and ar- 
ranging in it a few' pieces of carpet, happily discovered, 
to prepare more daintily for the feet of his “ lady fair.” 
The back of a chair fastened in one end of the boat 
afforded a peculiarly comfortable seat. They were 
slight tokens of thoughtfulness, but they were evi- 
dences of the devotion that should be hers for a life- 
time should she deign to accept the gift. 

Patiently he waited, indulging in visions of the sweet 
face that would soon sit opposite him ; the graceful 
form he might assist, and perhaps — ah, it was delight- 
ful! — yet again, those rosy lips might assume their 
firmest outline, might utter cruel, hopeless words ; ah ! 
no, not cruel, — even if she decided against him, he was 
sure she would do it kindly. Why did she not come ? 
The green hillocks, rising like billows around him, 
might shield her from his sight for a while, but surely 
it was time she was here. Could she disappoint him, — 
and this the last day of all ? 

But now he sees the flutter of a lady’s dress; her 
veil, blown by the wind, floats out to signal him ; with 
an eager gesture he springs out on the shore, and ad- 
vances rapidly to meet her, wlien — ‘‘confusion worst 
confounded” — the too familiar “Voice” greets his 
ear, and he retreats from the tall figure of Mrs. Lang- 


82 


DACTIF.LOnS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


try, wliose energetic a[)proiieh nearly sent her into liis 
arms. 

My little boj's did not come after all,” she panted, 
and some friends of Avis’ came unexpectedly from the 
lighthouse, on tlieir return to Easthampton. I was de- 
termined you should not be disappointed, so I came 
myself, and I knew you would be glad enough to see 
me.” 

Consternation, and anything but pleasure, was pic- 
tured on Mr. Moran’s countenance ; fury was in his 
heart, but he could not forget the duties of a gentle- 
man, and civility told him there was nothing to do but 
place Mrs. Langtry in the boat, so carefully prepared 
for another occupant, and make her stay as short and 
sweet as possible. There crept into his soul one satis- 
faction. No one had observed his neat little arra-nge- 
ments, and he could smooth over the failure to the in- 
quisitive bachelors if he was allowed time to think it 
well over. 

Alas! even this comfort was denied him. Happening 
to cast his eye towards a little knoll that commanded a 
full view of that end of the pond, he saw Modoc caper- 
ing and gesticulating in an ecstasy of appreciation and 
enjoyment, and he felt that with the astute mind of 
that fun-loving young man no evasion would succeed. 

The conversation between Moran and Mrs. Langtry 
Avas fitful, and mostly conducted by that estimable 
lady. She made one remark that penetrated his soul 
with its unintentioned irony. 

“ Hpw nicely you have arranged this boat,” examin- 
ing all the extra improvements with evident admira- 
tion. Isn’t this something new, or is it all your own 
idea?” 


A 3f/DSl7MM£li DIVERSION. 


83 


“ Oh, no,” lie made haste to rejoin, ‘‘ all the boats on 
the St. Lawrence are arranged in this fashion. It is a 
very common thing.” 

‘‘Ah, indeed! Well, I shall tell Avis all about it, 
and how comfortable you made me.” 

Moran groaned, for he knew she would not only 
probably describe it to her daughter, but to the whole 
table full of interested listeners. 

“ He rowed her home, across the cruel foam,” and 
escorted her dutifully to the spacious mansion of Dobbs. 
With many thanks Mrs. Langtry parted with him at 
the foot of the stairs, declaring that she hoped he had 
enjoyed the afternoon’s sail as much as herself. 

Fortunately for him she did not appear at the tea- 
table, and he wisely started a subject which involved 
the clergyman and the Professor in such an argument 
that even the Modoc found sufficient employment in 
leading on the contestants. 

The last evening which should see all these different 
members of Mrs. Dobbs' little household gathered 
under one roof had arrived, and there was a nameless 
feeling of melancholy resting upon tliose who composed 
it, which neither jest nor reason could Avholly dissipate. 

Avis stood for a moment in the doorway, looking out 
into the quiet summer night. How Avell she recognized 
all the familiar sounds that had attached themselves to 
her associations of the place. Far away the subdued 
tinkle of a cow-bell, as some belated animal was driven 
slowly homeward ; the shrill cry of the mournful 
cricket; and, through all other “voices of the night,” 
continuously the boom-boom of the surf breaking on 
the shore below. The cool sea-breezes lifted the soft, 


84 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


loose hair that lovingly rippled across her brow, and 
caressingly played and tossed it into curls. I 

Mr. Moran felt a very dangerous desire to touch and I 
replace the clinging locks, as he came and stood beside | 
her, and allowed his eyes to rest on her fair upturned | 
face. Oh, if he could have had the right to assume a 
lover’s privilege, — if only that question had been fully 
asked and answered ! But now the morrow would find 
her away — and it was so hard to wait. 

“ Do you leave Montauk with any regret?” he softly 
asked. 

‘‘Ah, yes, indeed ! I cannot understand why, but I 
feel really sad to go away ! It is like saying ‘ good-by ’ j 
to a very old friend, and you know when I came, I did | 
not like it at all. You prefer the mountains, I remeiii-| 
her, but I am sure I shall not like Keene Valley as welk 
as this wild, queer, desolate Montauk.” I 

“And is a farewell to the friends of Montauk in-| 
eluded in your regrets ? 1 sincerely hope you will not i 

exclude them.” i 

“ Certainly not, but Ave may hope to see our friends i 
again, and I doubt much if this scene is ever revis-l 
ited. I suppose the ‘merry bachelors' will soon aban-| 
don this camping - ground. Did 1 not understand! 
you to say vou contemplated a mountain trip ycur-i 
self?” 

“ I am most positively convinced. Miss Langtry, that 
my constitution requires more bracing air, and mountain 
climbing, but when that remedy will be administered , 
depends” — i 

Excuse me for interrupting,” said the Modoc, “but 
I bring you a petition. Miss Langtry, from the whole 
company. Will you not sing for Us to-night ? ” 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION. 


8£ 


It would be very ungracious to refuse such a unan- 
imous invitation,” she replied smilingly, “ but I must 
confess I am too tired to afford you much enjoyment.” 

‘‘We will answer for that!” cried both the young 
men, as they escorted her to the instrument. 

“Have you overheard this plaintive air? it is a 
great favorite of mine,” she asked, playing the opening 
chords of Auf Wiederschen. 

All pi'ofessed ignorance, and Avis’ full, sweet voice, 
a little tremulous from fatigue, seemed to express a 
world of regret and farewell in the beautiful strains of 
the German song. Other ballads of a similar character 
followed, and the little group were attaining a very 
sombre and melancholy frame of mind, when the Modoc 
felt liis spirits so rapidly subsiding, it was necessary to 
turn to something more animating or farcical if he would 
not be unmanned ; he therefore suggested divers college 
songs and choruses with which Miss Langtry favored 
him awhile, and then pleading fatigue, and the next 
day’s journey, begged they would excuse her retiring 
early. 

Sir Roger had not yet returned, but was expected the 
following day. Avis was not sorry to escape a meeting 
which would be unpleasant for both. She did not care 
to hear his excuses, — they could never obliterate the 
revelations of his character. Reynolds, Mr. Norris and 
Modoc were strong in their protestations of sorrow, and 
tlie Professor, in the goodness of his heart, invited them 
all to visit him, and he would show them one of the 
iinest colleges and the finest “collection” in the land. 

Mrs Langtry assured them warmly — they were not 
near as bad a set as she had expected ; but lier mental 
I'eservatioii excluded the Modoc. 


80 


BACIlELOnS AND LUTTERFLIES. 


Mr. Moran was apparently the least giieved of the 
party, but then he was reckoning upon a speedy meet- 
ing, when oiice again he might try his fate, and seize 
some golden opportunity. 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION. 


II. 

I. 

Farewell ! and in the teeth of care 
ITl breathe the buxom mountain air, 

Feed vision upon dyes, and hues 

That from the hill-top interfuse.” — Mackay, 

Fkom the level downs of Montauk, to the wooded 
heights and rocky precipices, the wild chasms and the 
rushing rivers of the great northern woods, is a change 
so pronounced that most natures would respond to its 
influence with quickened pulse and brightened eye. A 
long, narrow valley runs for miles between the towering 
green-covered chieftains of the Adirondacks, while Ta- 
hanas to the west, Hurricane to the east. Moon-mark 
and Wolfs Jaw, with all their vast attendants, — a very 
sea of moun tains,— whose mighty billows, rolling up- 
ward in every direction, seem always on the point of 
cresting over and submerging the placid valley at their 
base. Avery accommodating and sociable little valley it 
is which follows the leadings of the wild ‘‘Ausable” in 
a most persistent manner wherever the eccentric fancies 
of that winding stream choose to carry it. Up hill and 
down among the narrow passes, always ready to deck 

87 


88 


BACIIKLORS AND BUTTERFLIES, 


its l>anlvs with choicest flowers and verdure, until at lust 
the unorateful river breaks quite away, and plunyes 
lieadlong through the thick woods in its liasle to ju ufl 
its tumultuous waters into the beautiiul lake, which 
through the St. Lawrence finds an exit to the sea. \ 

This is a proud little valley, too ; proud of its fertile' 
pastures, and its five or six small settlements with their 
temporary dash of gaiety in the summer, when the 
tourists invade the vicinity, and eacli guide’s house 
holds its complement of boarders, large or small, as the 
case may be. As the nearest i*ailroad station is twenty 
or thirty miles distant, the excitement is never intense, 
but, compared with that of the winter months, is suffi- 
cient to stir the inhabitants to unusual exertion in 
thought and action. 

Some distance from any village in the valley, an old- 
fashioned farm-house, skirted on two sides by a long 
veranda, nestled far back among the hills. At one side, 
between two large maples, a hammock swung slowly 
back and forth in the aiteriioon sun, and in it, smoking 
a huge German pipe, and with eyes cast upward to the 
blue vault above, lay the Professor. His thoughts 
seemed heavenly, but only soared so far as to follow the 
angelic mosquito, or, rather, midge. 

A few ladies were promenading the veranda, — some 
very youthful ones arm in arm with their merry com- 
panions ; some matrons, with dignified steps and heads 
held proudly erect, as if carrying the whole respecta- 
bility and propriety of the family on their own indb 
vidiial shoulders ; careless children scampered hither 
and thither in daring frolic, getting into every one’s 
way, then being dragged off by irate nurses, only to re- 
appear in a more alarming manner. 


A MIDSfJMMIJR DIVERSION. 


80 


I “ Oh, I do hope he’ll come to-day ! ” confided ‘pretty 
fennie Brown to her intimate but rather inane friend, as 
iliey turned the corner of the veranda and looked in the 
direction of the village. ‘‘ If he doesn’t, I must have a 
letter ! I shall die if I don’t ! He said he would cer- 
tainly come ; and, oh ! I do want to see another man 
here besides the Professor. Just look at all those 
women ! One might think this was a convent, or a fe- 
Imale seminary ! I’m wild to do a little flirting ! If he 
does come, Mary, won’t those odious Bentleys be jealous ! 
they haven’t a soul to escort them now, and you know 
when their cousin was here last week, they never even 
introduced him, — mean things ! I should like to pay 
them ofP. If he comes, we must have that pic-nic ; but 
then, — oh, dear, whom shall we invite ? The Clements 
are sweet, pretty girls, but they are so monopolizing ; 
and the Hastings are of a nice family, but stupid, you 
know. Miss Langtry is lovely, but she don’t care for 
much besides Art. You see, when there are so few men, 
we must economize our resources. It will not do to 
launch out indiscriminately! ” 

Within ^‘the parlor,” a room of simple description, 
adorned with the usual combination of birch bark, cheap 
chromos, and moss crosses, sat Avis and her mother; 
the former busy painting from a vase of fresh wild flow- 
ers ; Mrs. Langtry, erect and vigilant as ev^r, was look- 
ing through the slats of the blinds out on the dusty 
road, with a sadly bored expression of countenance. 
The flelds lay bathed in the glare of a noonday sun, 
with not a vestige of moving life upon them, and in the 
room the drowsy flies buzzed from window to window 
in monotonous undertone. At length the silence be- 
came unbearable, and she exclaimed morosely : — 


90 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


^‘This is the dullest, most stupid place I’ve been in | 
yet! I thought that Montauk was bad enough, but we 
became accustomed to it, finally, and I rather liked the 
sea, it was always changing ; but here.^ v/here there are I 
not hills, there are woods, and they shut me in so, I am 
tired of the sight of them. If there was anything to do, 

I should be more contented, but the guide’s children re- 
fused to be taught yesterday when I proposed to do it 
mj'self, and there isn’t a sewing society to be found, not 
one ! Then, such dusty, rough roads I For my part, I 
shall be glad to see a sidewalk again, and something- 
‘ going on.’ ” 

"‘Oh, mother,” said Avis; “I did hope you would, 
like these mountains ; I have grown so fond of them. 
They are solemn, I know, and I wonder people can 
desecrate their dignity and quietude by rivaling each 
other in outrageous noise. I feel as if I were in church 
and ought to speak in an undertone I ” 

“ With your grand ideas, I’ve no doubt you do I I 
don’t pretend to be sentimental ; and as for feeling as if 
I were in church all the time, I don’t want to I Good- 
ness knows I feel solemn enough as it is 1 Every one is 
out all day, tramping about the country, and it is very 
lonely for me, with no one to talk to. I’d rather hear 
all tlie horps they had in Jericho than have no noise or 
bustle whatever. Let me see, though. Avis, were they 
horns the people used in Jericho, or some other instru- 
ments? I must look that point up.” 

“You’ll have plenty of time before the next Bible- 1 
class. Did you decide upon the color of that pin- 
cushion you were making?” 

“ 1 shall not finisli it. Your father told me he had 
Bix already that he had never used ; he showed them to 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION. 


91 


me all stuffed into one calico bag — that makes me think 
I might make a rag-bag for Sam Boyce’s wife. I’m 
sure she needs one, for I saw her using an old barrel for 
that purpose.” 

Perhaps she prefers the barrel. She might not like 
to be interfered with ; the people about here are very 
independent.” 

“Well, every sensible person ought to have a ragbag., 
and if Mrs. Boyce has never used one it is time slie 
did ; and I shall express my mind to her. Ton never 
would reform anything, Avis. I wonder you don’t see 
your duty more clearly.” 

“ I don’t believe there is only one way of doing a 
thing, or that we should force our ideas on others. Did 
you ever see Sam Boyce ? He is such an independent, 
strong character, with the simplicity of a child ; 1 be- 
lieve he loves every tree like a human being, and he is 
such a fine specimen of a true mountaineer.” 

“ Oh, it is all very well to talk about characters, and 
nature, but no one can live on that. I’d rather have 
better meals and fewer mountains. People that are 
always talking about clouds and flowers don’t know 
much about cooking, and that’s the most important 
tiling after all. There’s the mail! Look, Avis ; who 
are these coming up on a buckboard ? Two men and 
two trunks! Thank goodness, they are men! We've 
now twelve women in this house already. Avis, quick, 
come here ! Does not that one in a gray coat look like 
Mr. Moran, and — as I live — that dreadful Modoc! 
Dear me, what can have bi'ought them? Wonder if 
they had an idea we were here ; I’m going out to ask 
them.” 

“No, don’t do that, mother,” pleaded Avis, the 


92 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


bright blush on her clieek attesting that she divined 
the reasons of one of the travelers. Let us go in and 
get our letters; see — there are no more passengers, 
and we will welcome the gentlemen after they are 
rested.” 

‘‘ No, indeed ; that is just one of your queer fancies. 
Why should we not be hearty and cordial, and receive 
them with open arms ? That is 7ny way. Mr. Moran 
has been very attentive to me, and I’m sure the sight 
of me will give him great pleasure in this lonely land ; 
besides, I can introduce him to eveiy one ! ” 

With these hospitable intentions she went forward to 
grasp him by both hands, while the manner in which 
the Modoc was received by Miss Brown and her com- 
23anion showed conclusively that he had come. 

jMoran returned Mrs. Langtry’s welcoming smiles 
with effusion, and asserted that he never was happier 
to see any one in liis life, which, considering the good 
dame was the direct avenue to the presence of her 
daughter, may be condoned as a hyperbolical expres- 
sion. Meanwhile his eyes vainly searched among the 
different groups around him for the one face that 
seemed to him the most lovely and interesting in the 
world, but that quick-witted young person had no mind 
to give him a welcome under the eyes of the whole 
bevy of observant young ladies, and tlie ordeal of her 
mother’s voluble tongue. Avis had quietly disap- 
peared, and was at that moment regarding the whole 
scene below through the closed blind of her own win- 
dow, and wondering if ever she should be allowed one 
hour of John Moran’s society unmolested and undis- 
turbed. 

The door of her room was quickly thrown open, and 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION. 


93 


Mrs. Langtry entered overpowered with the excitement 
of the arrivals. 

“ Now is your chance, Avis, to have a good time,” 
she began. ^‘All the young ladies down stairs are won- 
dering who Mr. Moran is, and that wild cousin of his 
— the Modoc. Whether he is married or single ? where 
he comes from, and all about him. That fat Mrs. 
Jones was very sweet to me when she found he was 
an acquaintance of mine, but I’m a discreet person, 
Avis, you know, and I said very little ; that is, as little 
as any one could, and be civil. I knew she was forag- 
ing for information for those daugl iters and nieces of 
hers. There is no reason, my dear, why you should 
not be the belle of the place, but no, — Fm sure you’ll 
never improve your oportunities. If you only had a 
little of my spirit, you’d be interested in everything. 
You lack vivacity. Avis; that’s the word, — vivacity. 

I never know what you are thinking about ; you’re 
exactly like your father, — wrapped up in your own 
fancies. It is well there is some one to see that you 
both eat and sleep.” 

‘‘I fear, mother,” replied Avis, with an amused 
smile, ‘‘it is too late to change me now, and, perhaps,^ 
I have no wise thoughts to communicate. Thus, you 
see, by preserving silence, I conceal my ignorance, and 
have time to reflect upon the excellent opinions of 
others. In this house we are divided into three classes, 

I think, — talkers, heavers, and knitters. Did you ever 
see so much worsted work done in your life ? ” 

“Oh, yes,” interrupted Mrs. Langtry, “you always 
manage to have an answer ready, but you’ll live to see 
the day you’ll wish you had taken your mother’s ad- 
vice. There’s the tea-bell ! Do hurry down. I hope 


94 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES, 


they have cakes and maple syrup for us ! Don’t you 
think they will put Mr. Moran’s seat at our table ? As 
for that Modoc, I would as soon have him farther off. 
I sometimes have an idea that he is laughing in his 
sleeve even when he appears so grave.” 

“ Do not suggest any such arrangement, mother,” 
said Avis, rising. Mr. Moran is fully able to take 
care of himself.” 

Mrs. Langtry left the room reflecting that Avis was 
a queer girl, and always would be, but it was of no use 
to oppose her. Indeed, the mother secretly stood a 
little in awe of her quiet daughter, as in the presence 
of an undeveloped mystery which obeyed laws far be- 
yond her comprehension. 

A clatter ot dishes, the confused murmur of voices, 
and (he swift passage to and fro of the waitresses, indi- 
cated the commencement of supper ; and in fact most 
of the boarders had taken their accustomed seats when 
Mrs. Langtry and Avis entered the dining-room, the 
latter looking more lovely than ever in a blue dress of 
some soft fleecy material ; the proud poise of her 
queenly head, witli its abundant hair devoid of any 
oniament whatever, seemed to Moran such a charming 
contrast to the bows and gewgaws with which most of 
the other girls were adorned, that he thought no fairer 
sight had ever met his admiring eyes. 

The Professor, for once awake to hospitable duties, 
had urged the Modoc to take the vacant seat at his 
side, which the amiable youth was nothing loth to ac- 
cept, as it placed him in close proximity to the lively 
Miss Brown, Moran being directly opposite. 

‘‘Are you enjoying yourself among these grand moun- 
tains, Mrs. Langtry V ” inquired Moran, deeming the 


A JfIDSUMMFR DIVERSION. 


95 


journey and scenery safe topics to introduce for general 
conversation. 

Well, I don’t care much for scenery myself, views 
are pretty much alike ; woods are woods, and sunsets 
are sunsets, the world over, and when you’ve seen some, 
you've seen about all. Forests at a distance look to me 
pretty much like great masses of parsely and spinach, 
and as for the ‘ tramps ’ as they call it, I’ve enough of 
tramf% at liome. I am sure I should soon look like the 
worst of them, if I let them drag me over these big 
rocks and stones. No, no ! what I like is society, and 
conversation, and enjoying myself in a lively way ! ” 

Moran made another effort ; I suppose you drive out 
often, do you not ? ” 

Oh, there isn’t but one drive I like to take, that’s to 
the store. One can’t find much to buy when one gets 
there, though! Avis is perfectly contented never to 
see the inside of it ; she goes off with her sketch-book 
all day, up and down the dusty roads, and doesn’t even 
know they’re dusty, I believe. She’s sketching now — ” 

""Mother, have some more toast?” interrupted Avis 
decidedly, “ and you will have your plate changed, won’t 
you?” 

"" Oh, yes, thank you, — let me see ! what was I about 
to say? Oh, — where Avis goes! to-morrow she in- 
tends — ” 

"‘ Come, Mother,” desperately, “ Imre is your tea. 
You have not asked for our other friends at Montauk 
yet, and almost every one has finished supper.” 

Thus urged, Mrs. Langtry drank her hot tea, so has- 
tily that the tears stood in her eyes ; bravely wiping, 
them off, she lead the way to the parlor. 

This room, opening out on the piazza, was the 


96 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


general rendezvous ; some cynical misanthropes regarded 
it as a craftily contrived net to catch unwary passers 
through bent on solitude, or in pursuit of an unsocial 
tete-d-tete. No recesses, no obscure corners, afforded 
retreat for the exclusive ; the four bare white walls 
looked each other directly in the face. The landlord 
evidently thought the room amply furnished with a 
centre-table, six chairs, a stove and a stand. The ladies 
had come to the rescue. Over the ugly black stove 
they threw masses of the delicate, graceful wild clem- 
atis, until it presented the appearance of a mass of 
flowers ; over the doors and windows they hung pretty 
portiSres and curtains of white linen trimmed with red ; 
brackets and wall-pockets of birch-bark were festooned 
with the dark running pine, feathery ferns, and bright 
leaves and berries. The little white lamb and stone 
dog and plaster cock under the glass shade, who had 
together kept guard over the mantel for many a year, 
hardly knew the place, — so altered by these many 
changes, and felt their position of responsibility greatly 
lessened thereby.. 

Moran!” whispered the Modoc, pulling his cousin 
by the sleeve as he was about to enter this room, where 
the boarders ” were gradually assembling, preparatory 
to the evening’s • diversons, take my advice I I’ll help 
you all I can, my dear fellow. Don’t go in there, if 
you wish to see your lady fair. The old soldier — her 
mother — is on duty, sitting bolt upright in a chair of 
state in the middle of the room, waiting for you ! 
There are Jive joxmg ladies ranged around her, to whom 
she has promised to introduce you, and they each have 
one friend apiece, for whom they will continue the 
ceremony. There’s a whole row of observant dowagers 


A 3IIDSUMMER DIVERSION, 


97 


sitting against the wall — and they’re all sociable — 
every one ! You see, I’ve reconnoitered. Besides, the 
fairest rose isn’t in there. I saw Miss Langtry, about 
half an hour ago, walking towards that sunset knoll ; 
and if I were you, — a word to the wise, — ‘ Take a mes- 
sage and a token,’ to that fair young friend of mine. 
One word more, — pass not by the parlor door! it isn’t 
safe — adieu ! ” 

Moran laughed, and thanking the good-natured 
young fellow for his consideration, followed his advice, 
and passing over the meadow that skirted one side of 
the house, made his way rapidly towards a small emi- 
nence, on the top of which clustered a few trees. 


II. 

** She looks through life, and with a balance just 
Weighs men and things, beholding as they are 
The lives of others : in the common dust 
She finds the fragments of the ruined star.” 

Miss Langtry had chosen her seat on a small emi- 
nence that commanded a view of the valley, and was 
comfortably ensconced in the cleft of a great rock that 
partly concealed her, while it afforded a fine view of the 
gioAving western horizon. It was one of those marvelous 
sunsets, occasionally seen in mountainous regions, where 
every shade and hue of color are assembled upon tlie 
azure canvas to paint the glories of the dying day. 


98 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES, 


“ Slowly from the scene, the stooping sun upgathers his spent 
shafts, 

And puts them back into his golden quiver.” 

The valley was filled with the golden sunlight to its 
very brim, until the chill damp mists, creeping greedily 
up from the mountain passes, drank up the wonderful 
nectar, leaving only the glistening streams and lake to 
reveal the radiance that had deluged them with light. 

Moran caught the gleam of Avis’ light dress, as he 
climbed the hill to a seat at her side, and exclaimed, as 
he noticed her complete enjoyment of the beautiful 
scene, — 

“Do you always know where to find the most attrac- 
tive landscapes ? This view certainly appears to me a 
perfect one ! ” 

“I have not the merit of discovering it,” she replied, 
“ this is a common resort ; you know every place must 
have its sunset rock, and this is also the nearest eleva- 
tion to the hotel.” 

“ You perceive, I have redeemed my promise,” Moran 
continued ; “ my thoughts have been here days before 
my actual presence, — ’tis a long time since we were all 
at Montauk, is it not ? ” 

“ Only two weeks, I believe ; is that a long time ? ” 

“I confess, it seemed so to me,” disconsolately. 
“ Reynolds and Alliston went off on a yachting trip 
soon after you left us, and Mr. Norris was called home 
to perform a quantity of ‘ match-making ; ’ the birds 
Avere an obstinate set and refused to be shot, and things 
ciuiie to an end generally. Modoc and I were just talk- 
ing of leaving when Dobbs’ woodshed caught fire and 
bin nt up, and that decided us. We could not live ther.e 
without a woodshed I ” 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION, 


99 


Avis laughed at his doleful expression. How came 
you to hud your way here ? ” she inquired, mischievously. 
“ ‘ The Maples,’ although distinguished by its trees, is 
not a noted place of resort. Indeed, we chose it under 
the impression tliat it was the height of seclusion and 
unknown to fame. It appears there were a dozen 
women who did the same, and they are all here ! ” 

“ I used some wit, and more cigars, upon an intelli- 
gent stage driver, and from his account I imagined the 
house he described might contain some friends of mine. 
Artistic young ladies cannot expect to remain untraced,” 
with a merry glance at her pretty flushed face. Even 
these rough mountaineers draw conclusions, and, you 
see, I was not wrong to adopt them. Have you enjoyed 
much society? Have you been lonely at all?” he in- 
quired, earnestly, hoping some admission might escape 
her that she had thought of him, or missed him. 

‘‘ How can I be lonely, with all the suggestions that 
crowd upon me from this beauty of nature?” she re- 
plied, glad to turn the conversation from herself. I 
can’t express it, though sometimes I am audacious 
enough to attempt to paint it; but my efforts alwaj'S 
seem so childish, I am more discouraged after every 
trial.” She paused, then continued, enthusiastically: 
“ When the sunlight falls full upon that noble range of 
mountains at the north, it seems smooth and undented ; 
but when the heavy shadows overhang their sides, one 
sees the same mountains broken into countless valleys 
and depressions. Do you know, they seem typical to 
me of some characters, apparently placid and uninterest- 
ing in the sunlight of prosperity, and it is not until the 
shadows ot* trouble and sorrow overcast them, that they 
reveal the real depths and recesses of their nature.” 


100 BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES, 

“ And the rivers, Miss Langtry, what do they say to 
you? ” asked Moran, catching some of the young artist’s 
enthusiasm, and glad of a pretext for gazing upon her 
animated face unobserved ; he felt he, too, could paint 
a charming picture, might he but choose the subject at 
his side. 

‘^The river? oh, that seems like the great influences 
of life that carry us forward toward some unseen goal ; 
and the water-falls are like the rush of impulsive natures, 
— brilliant, heedless, but carrying all before them from 
their very force. My mother would declare that all 
this is nonsense compared to the study of a good cook- 
book, and — with a bright smile — perhaps she is right ! ” 

‘‘ It would be a very stupid world if tastes were all 
alike ; that is certain,” interposed Moran. I believe 
it is quite the fashion now to regard cooking as a fine 
art, but I imagine it is the idealists who have written 
the books that led to that elevated view of the subject. 
Does your father enjoy himself? ” 

Yes, he takes long walks with three women whom 
mother calls the ‘Miss McBeens ; ’ they eagerly pursue 
instruction under his guidance, and they may always be 
seen in his wake drinking in knowledge with every 
breath. You shall know not only them, but twelve 
others, who sit about in a circle every evening waiting 
for any chance excitement.” 

“ Enougli ! enough ! There seems such a superfluity of 
goodness I should die of sweetness, like the fly in the 
honey. I beg you will preserve me from such an end. 
I perceive this place is not without ‘the blessed children,’ 
as Mrs. Browning calls them, and, if I am not mistaken, 
some of them are approaching,” he added in a tone of 
vexation. 


A MIDSUMMFIi DIVERSION. 101 

Avis looked down into the valley, and, with an amused 
smile, saw a troop of boys and girls issuing from the 
house and preparing to ascend in their direction. 

I must forewarn you ! ” she exclaimed. “ I believe, 
from the signs, that they are about to engage in a game 
called ‘ The Round Trip.’ Woe to any mortal they en- 
counter in their path ; he or she is immediately incor- 
porated into the sport, either to be attacked as an enemy, 
if a refusal is given to join the band, or, received as a 
companion to endure the hardships of the campaign with 
them.” 

‘‘But surely,” said Moran, provoked beyond patience 
at the childish interruption of his tete-d-tete.^ “ we need 
have nothing to do with this dreadful ‘ Round Trip.’ 
Let us descend the other side and leave the rabble to 
their own resources ! ” 

“ Too late ! They have seen us, and our fate is sealed. 
You see, they are all ‘guides,’ and the discovery of two 
possible tourists is a chance too good for them to lose. 
Not a child in their own ranks will submit to be 
guided.” 

At this moment a loud shout of elation testified to the 
children’s appreciation of the situation, as the heads of 
tlie pioneers appeared coming up the hill. 

“ Oh, isn’t this jolly ! ” called out the leader, a boy of 
twelve, to his companions. “ Here are two of them ! 
Miss Langtry and a gentleman ! And they’re neither 
old nor fat,” he added in a triumphant, low tone ; “so 
they’ll do splendidly for ‘ the Trip.’” 

“ Perhaps they’re flirting, and she won’t like to go,” 
admonished a considerate little girl with round, wide- 
awake eyes. 

“ What of that ? ” cried the boys, disdainfully. 


102 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES, 


“ There’s no fun in that. She’ll go, — she always likes 
to please us, — and she’ll take him along, too ! Come 
Sidney, — come on Mary, Eliza ! ” 

‘‘Miss Langtry,” with a pleading voice, “you’ll go 
with us just this once, won’t you? We’ve only been 
able to get one person to-day to go with us, and that 
was Miss Amsoii, who, they say, is a little out of her 
mind.” 

“If we go, Archie, will you promise to make ‘the 
trip’ a short one?” said Avis. “You can leave out 
two or three imaginary lakes, and begin at the foot of 
Mt. Marcy.” 

“ All right ! ” responded the party, “ but it is a great 
pity to leave out a thing. Have you ‘Alpine stocks’? ” 

“Yes, yes! we are quite prepared,” said Moran, as 
he showed his cane, and Miss Langtry her parasol. 

“ Now, then, we’re on the great mountain of the 
Giant!” Archie announced, but was immediately con- 
tradicted by two or three independent thinkers. 

“ Well, until it is decided where we do stand we had 
better sit down,” coolly remarked Moran. But the 
children, like good politicians, seeing the cause lost un- 
less they united, declared it was the “ Giant ” after all, 
and implored them not to give up. 

They all tiled down a declivity where a pool of water 
lay under the shadow of a tree. Moran pretended to 
be lost in wonder and admiration at its picturesque 
banks. 

“ Is that a lone Indian? ” he asked, pointing with his 
cane to a brown tree trunk that lay on the ground by 
its side. 

“ This is Crystal Lake, and the Indians come along 
by and by,” was replied. 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION, 


103 


A cattle enclosure was discovered to represent a 
wooded camping - ground, and the quiet cows being 
stirred up with sticks, when ambling about, flourishing 
their tails, presented to a vivid imagination the idea of 
deer driven by the hunters fleeing from pursuit. 

Moran insisted that he must have a poke also, at the 
imaginary deer, but found that this was a right exclu- 
sively enjoyed by ‘‘the guides,” and they made the 
most of it. 

“We now enter the fearful Indian pass,” whispered 
the children, as they pressed through a line of trees 
standing in a grove at the bottom of a gentle depression 
of land ; “ and now,” — as after some scrambling they 

reached the top of a rocky hill, — “now, we are repaid 
for all our trials, now we are on Mt. Marcy ! ” 

Let us have refreshment ! ” promptly ejaculated one. 

“Hush!” remonstrated a wiser guide; “don’t you 
know we haven’t peanuts enough to go ’round ? Grown 
folks can eat handfuls, if they want to ! ” 

Moran and Avis, overhearing this description of the 
youthful commissary, exchanged amused glances, and 
he remarked : “ Have you a very rapacious appetite for 
peanuts. Miss Langtry ? I shouid be content to divide 
one between us ; ” while both hastened to assure their 
small friends that they could not descend to such trifles 
as candy and peanuts, when the view before them 
claimed attention. 

Moran saw his cherished tete-d-tete so thoroughly 
broken up that he concluded a return to the house 
would afford him the only advantage. For that pur- 
pose he addressed the restless explorers who hovered 
about : “ It is growing late I ” he called ; “ will not 
youi* mothers be anxious? I think we should return.’^ 


104 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


Oh, not at all ! ” they quickly replied. “ They all 
know where you and Miss Langtry are, and that we are 
with you. One of the nurses said there was a ‘ Lord 
Lovel ’ out here, but we haven’t seen any ‘ lord ’ yet, 
'have you ? What an awful, fraud nurses are ! ” 

A few moments after, however, the growing darkness 
produced an impression upon even their careless minds, 
and they announced that they must return to reach the 
first settlement before night, 

“ Thank heaven ! they do tliink of returning,” ex- 
claimed Moran. “ I was afraid we were doomed to camp 
out forever. Do take my arm. Miss Langtry ; we shall 
accomplish the descent with more ease, and the inclina- 
tion is steep.” 

When they reached the piazza Avis was glad to sink 
into a large chair, wearied with the fatigue and exer- 
tion. Moran placed it for her in a secluded angle of 
the veranda which seemed deserted, and then procured 
a comfortable seat for himself at her side. As they sat 
watching the twilight deepen into dusk, and he found 
himself in such an alluring situation of confidence, the 
question which had been agitating his heart and mind 
for many weeks past again pressed for an answer. To 
him, who had thought of it so continuously^ it seemed 
the most natural thing in the world to suggest, as the 
first topic of conversation ; the words were burning on 
his lips, but he was not at all assured that the subject 
had the same interest for her, — perhaps the delightful 
scenes and persons at Montauk she had dismissed as a 
passing summer experience; he feared to lose all by 
venturing too far. 

As the moonlight fell on her face, she looked so sweet 
and fair, such an earnest, restful expression encouraged 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION. 


105 


sympathy, that again his heart began to beat with its 
strong desire. “She could not be unkind, if she re- 
jected me,” he soliloquized, “ and I feel I must know, 
at least, if there is any other man in the way. That 
will be one step gained.” 

“ Miss Langtry,” he began, in one of the pauses of 
their desultory conversation, “ you were speaking a few 
moments ago of the agreeable society one might enjoy 
in a place of this kind, and rather recommending me to 
cultivate it. Do you imagine one could have much in- 
clination for general society when their whole interest 
is centered upon one person? ” 

“ That depends upon time and circumstance, I should 
think, and the nature of the interest.” 

“But, I mean, can one’s affections be divided when 
there is only inclination to consult? ” 

“ I suppose it is a gentleman’s privilege, at least, to 
flit from flower to flower ! Do not the poets assure us 
that is the nature of man, and are they not supposed to 
found their authority in facts ? ” 

“No! I stoutly deny my belief in many of their 
facts. This one you mention, for instance. Constancy 
is as much a manly virtue as a woman’s grace. If you 
will pardon the personal reference, I can affirm, as an 
illustration, that I feel within myself an incapability of 
change, having once formed a sincere attachment. 
Whether I shall suffer for this persistence of my charac- 
ter, you alone, dear Miss Langtry, can determine that.” 

“1 1” exclaimed Avis, “how should I be held re- 
sponsible?” 

“ Pardon me, if I am too abrupt, but can you not see 
how warm — how personal — my regard for you has 
grown? Have you not — ” 


106 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


Here a scuffling of feet was heard near by, accom- 
panied by a rustling of silk and a loud series of coughs 
and ahems. A moment after, the Modoc’s brisk figure 
appeared around the corner where they sat, and he 
inarched up and down a few times, as if taking a ‘‘ con- 
stitutional.” 

t^Why, bless my soul, Moran!” he suddenly ex- 
claimed, turning around toward them ; ‘‘ you here, smok- 
ing I ” — there was not a vestige of a cigar. Oh, par- 
don me. Miss Langtry, in the dusk I did not recognize 
you! You have not extended to me the right hand of 
friendship yet, and I hope you intend to do that for the 
sake of our pleasant days at Montauk.” 

“ Indeed I shall,” she answered heartily. “ I want to 
hear all about your rovings. Will you not sit down and 
begin the account ? ” 

‘‘ Thanks ; I should be most happy, but I am on duly 
just now as a messenger and the lady is expecting me. 
I was only going to speak to Moran about a hunting 
party — do not let me disturb you ! ” 

I will leave you to explain it to him, for I am sure 
my mother is anxiously wondering where I am,” replied 
Avis, rising as she spoke. “ I must ask you botli to ex- 
cuse me;” and so saying she disappeared within the 
house. 

Moran turned with a growl of displeasure to Modoc, 
and demanded what evil genius led him to appear just 
then. Was he always ready to sacrifice the peace of 
' any friend for whatever trick or fancy amused himself ? 

‘‘ Sacrifice my friends, eh ? Haven’t I just this blessed 
minute sacrificed the society of the sweetest girl in tlie 
world, to come and tell you we were within hearing dis- 
tance ? Who could imagine that you would settle your- 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION. 


107 


selves the other side of the corner occupied by Miss 
Brown and myself? We were having an awfully cosy 
time! — flirting, you know% — when 1 happened to hear 
you pounding away on a tender subject. Miss Brown 
had already pricked up one lovely ear to listen, when 
I dropped her fan, and moved our chairs about to look 
for that with rather more noise than necessary, and 
then, as I found you were still continuing your mad 
career, I told her she must have another shawl, and 
bolted right in on you. This is all the thanks I get. 
If ever I catch myself doing a good action again, — ” 

‘‘Well, confound it, Modoc, I think this is the 
third or fourth time I’ve tried this thing, — and every 
time I get well started, some malicious fatality pops 
an unexpected person down upon me, who breaks up 
the whole affair. One don’t want to live on the edge 
of such a question forever I It’s mighty strange, any- 
how I ” 

“Oh, that’s nothing!” said the Modoc soothingly. 
“I knew a fellow who tried it fifteen times, — it all came 
out right at last. ‘ Faint heart,’ etc — remember ! But 
excuse me — Miss Brown Avill become a perfect icicle, 
Tin sure, if she is left much longer without that shawl. 
Good-night, old fellow — keep up your courage!” and 
with the words he too disappeared in the direction of 
the parlor, leaving Moran to meditate morosely upon 
‘‘ the ill wind ” that kept him company so continually. 

Previous to the arrival of Mr. Moran, Avis had been 
devoting herself to painting the interior of a rustic 
home, which greatly interested her. In her rambles 
about the country, with true artist instincts, she had 
treasured up memories of bits of color on mountain side 
or mossy deli ; picturesque groups of rocks and boulders 


108 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


in wild ravines choked with trees and ferns ; glim- 
mer of water in pools and cascades ; winding woodland 
paths among the pines and ghostly birches, or again, 
masses of white clematis and crimson woodbine waving 
graceful tendrils over stony walls and tangled thickets. 
Here some quiet homelike scene — a rough log hut 
with vine-clad porch nestled down at the foot of a dark 
and lofty mountain — impressed her fancy; or there, a 
sunny, pent-up valley, with uplands stretching away in 
green slopes to the horizon, urged her to attempt to re- 
tain it on canvas. Each phase of varied nature found 
response in her own soul, and awakened a crowd of 
emotions struggling to find an adequate expression. In 
these excursions, she experienced most hospitable wel- 
come at the country homes. Apparently, this was lim- 
ited to the exchange of flowers, or a glass of milk on 
the one side, for pleasant thanks, bright smiles and 
sympathetic interest from the other; in reality, there 
was an interchange of knowledge of human nature 
from both, which rendered each more tolerant for a life- 
time. 

It was before the garden of a house of this description 
that she stopped one morning to admire the old-fash- 
ioned flowers with which it was filled. Sweet peas, 
larkspurs and poppies peeped through the fence ; holly- 
hocks and sunflowers lifted their tall heads over the 
gate-posts, and nasturtiums and morning glories ran 
riot in the beds. A black-eyed little woman ran 
quickly down from the door-step, and, like a mother well 
pleased with the praise of her children, stood smiling 
and nodding to hear Miss Langtry’s admirations of her 
floral darlings. 

‘‘You must come in and see our Jerusalem cherry 


A Mins UAIJf Eli DIVERSION. 


109 


tree,” 'was the cordial invitation. It's a curiosity, I 
can tell you. You never see anything grow as it does. 
Mother and I do take such comfort with our flowers. 
We know every leaf that comes out in winter.” 

Avis was anxious to see what could comfort and in- 
terest such a family through the long snowbound winter 
months, and gladly yielded to the invitation. “ Mother ” 
was a peculiar looking old woman with kindly eyes, 
iron gray hair, and a very nasal pronounciation, while 
‘‘Father” was a bright-eyed little man seated in a cane- 
bottomed arm-chair smoking a pipe. The room was of 
old-fashioned type, — a long “settee” covered with 
faded chintz filled nearly the whole side of the room, 
and towering over it, as if to remind any laggard sleeper, 
stood a tall wooden clock, whicli counted the move- 
ments of time with a hard grinding sound that seemed 
to accord well with the unvarying, laborious lives of the 
inmates of the cottage, so unlike the noiseless velvety 
precision of the gilded time-pieces in the drawing rooms 
of the rich and great. There it stood in the corner^ 
with its white dial face blankly staring at the little 
table by the window covered with red painted nail kegs 
containing the cherished plants. A dark looking chim- 
ney place and mantel were barricaded by strings of red 
peppers and dried apples with a stocking or towel now 
and then interspersed. A large upright chair, sheathed 
in white dimity, spread its white arms wide, and offered 
a capacious seat for whoever should drop into them. 

It was without difficulty that Avis made arrange- 
ments for painting a picture which should include the 
“ Mothei ” and the kitten asleep on the window. In- 
deed, the whole family entered so heartily into the pro- 
ject that Avis was obliged to employ considerable tact 


110 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES, 


to avoid taking them all as ‘‘ sitters,” and if she had 
yielded to all their suggestions of novel additions, the 
assemblage of objects might have rivaled a Noah’s ark. 
II yron, the eldest son, expressed his willingness to be 
tiik ” at any time, and on the bare possibility fitted on 
ills best and only pair of kid gloves several times, re- 
olved not to be unprepared for the great occasion ; but 
all his studied attitudes were lost upon Miss Langtry, 
Avlio gave no sign of needing him. 

The picture was almost completed now, and Avis 
congratulated herself that one or two ‘‘ sittings ” more 
would be all that was necessary. Conscious that Mr. 
Moran’s presence would so divert her thoughts as to 
retard tlie progress of her work, she persistently refused 
to disclose the scene of her labors, or to give him a pre- 
text for accompanying her hither. In vain he peti- 
tioned to be allowed to visit the place and see with liis 
own eyes how well the painter’s brush and artist’s fancy 
could throw a charm over rough reality, — she would 
not give him a clue to its surroundings. 

“ Like the good little boy,” he entreated, ‘‘ I will be 
very still and only meekly admire ! ” 

“No,” she smilingly objected, “I cannot have a pos- 
sible critic about when 1 am experimenting, even if he 
is well wrapped up in a garb of indifference. I should 
feel the subtle analysis creeping out from his presence, 
and make a thousand mistakes. What is more, J do 
not think I can promise to show it to you at all — even 
when it is done.” 

“ Then you condemn me to the devouring of an in- 
satiable curiosity ? You do not even afford me the 
consolation of one exhibition ? Beware, Miss Langtry, 
— you push me to extremities! I am a desperate man, 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION, 


111 


and — I shall take desperate measures ! See that pic- 
ture I must ! ” 

‘‘At your peril, sir ! ” cried Avis ; “the moment you 
draw the veil from the beautiful uncertainty, — that 
moment will witness your fall ! ” 

“ From where ? ” he questioned, smiling. 

“ From the pinnacle of my confidence ! ” she replied. 
“ I shall leave you to reflect on the dreadful conse 
quences of any rash action, while I occupy myself in 
preparing for a final visit.” 

“You have no mercy, to leave me in such a dejected 
state ! You have not even expressed the slighest inter- 
est as to my occupations and amusements in your ab- 
sence ! What do you imagine I do in these long inter- 
vals ! ” 

“ Improve your time, I should hope,” she answered 
jestingly, as she stood before him, ready to depart ; 
“ and if you lack for conversation, there are the three 
intelligent ‘Miss McBeens’ in the parlor, and a wholo 
regiment of knitters I What more could a sensible man 
desire ? ” 


112 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


III. 

“A good old man, sir ; he will be talking.” 

— Much Ado about Nothing. 

Not long after this conversation, Moran was return- 
ing one morning from a long walk in search of game, 
with his gun across his shoulder. He had not been 
very successful, and, as lie trudged home along the 
dusty highway, he meditated pensively where it could 
be that Avis passed so much of her time these charm- 
ing days. 

Some retreats of hers he had already discovered ; 
households in the Valley, into which she had made her 
way with graceful tact, and won their hearts and confi- 
dence by her genuine interest and sympathy. He laid 
happened once or twice into these homes just after her 
visits, when the tongues of old and. young were voluble 
in her praise and the recital of her gifts and good ad- 
vice. Hero, it was a little medicine, or some choice tea 
for the infirm mother j^there, a little dainty bit of finery 
for the girl in her teens, or an entertaining book for the 
boy’s instruction. With his usual ill-fortune, Moran 
had never been able to meet her in these visits ; and he 
was now revolving in his mind the possibilities for that 
end, connected with any picturesque cottage within a 
certain radiivs of miles, when he heard the rattle of a 
country wagon behind him, and, looking around, saw a 
queer little man sitting alone on the one seat of a 
“ buckboard,^’ driving a consumptive - looking sorrel 
horse, whose air was so wholly depressed he evidently 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION, 113 

had given up all hopes of an easy old age in some 
grassy meadow, and expected to die in the harness. 

The little man had round, bead-like eyes, that spar- 
kled with all the brightness and vivacity of youth : his 
head was covered with a shock of gray hair, and a deep 
fringe of gray whiskers appeared to boil up out of his 
shirt collar and surround his face like a tangled frill or 
ruff. He sat bolt upright in the seat, with the most 
brisk, alert air, in a coat much too large for him, his 
small but horny hands half covered by his sleeves. He 
chirruped to liis liorse in a lively, animating way, slap- 
ping the reins against his bony sides; still the steed 
kept a slow and cautious tread. 

For a while Moran and the horse kept an even dis- 
tance ; at length the little man called out : — 

“ Goin’ fur. Mister '{ 

“ Not very,” replied Moran, finding himself ad- 
dressed ; “ only a mile or so more.” 

“ Hev a ride ? ” said the social little voice ; “ plenty 
of room, yer see.” 

“Well, I’m much obliged, if I don’t put you out at 
all. It’s a hot day, and I’ve been walking some hours.” 

“Oh, no; don’t put me out at all — puts you in, 
that’s all,” answered he gleefully, as he made room by 
his side on the old faded buffalo robe thrown over the 
seat. “ I like company, and I know strangers in these 
here parts can’t stand our roads no heow, like us folks 
that air bom n’ brought up in these mountins.” 

“ It must be very cold here in winter,” said Moran ; 
“ I suppose your snow drifts must cover almost every- 
thing.” 

“ Rayther chilly, sir, — ray-ther chilly. We heft to 
be dug out of our house two or three times in the win- 


114 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


ter sometimes, when the snow comes up nigh to the 
rut; but, laws! I raytlier like it ; it makes one feel so 
lively like. ’Taint nuthiii’ to the cold one feels in the 
mountins ; why, my wife and I lived a hull year on one 
o’ them mountins, right in the woods, thiity-six miles 
from any neebor. Tliet was a leetle lonesome I We 
never see even a ‘ Kannuck ’ the hull winter. When it 
got along onto June, Luelly — thet’s my darter — con- 
cluded she must hev a new dress ; so as we was wantin’ 
consid’ble number of things by thet time, I brought her 
down to the ^ Forks,’ and she picked one out. Du ye 
believ, thet dress jive dollars; but Luelly had been a 
drefful smart good girl, and 1 just detarmined I'd stretch 
a pint, and gratify her. Go lang, Kate I ” he exclaimed 
to the horse, whose gait grew slower and slower ; ‘‘go 
lang, I tell ye. If ye don’t g’lang, I’ll hev to hit ye, — 
tell ye what, it’ll cut cl us.” 

Thus threatened, the nag quickened her pace the 
fraction of a minute, while the little man continued: — 

“ Ever bin to my heouse ? It’s a middlin’ good-look- 
in’ place, and my old woman she’s awful fond of flow- 
errs ; thair’s a painter woman cums a’most every day to 
take a pictur’ of us and the sittin’-room and all.” 

Moran’s attention was riveted at once ; an amused 
smile played in the corners of his mouth, as he had dis- 
covered so opportunely the veritable house that en- 
gaged so much of Avis’ time and interest. 

“A middle-aged lady, I suppose you mean ; one who 
takes photographs,” he craftily suggested. 

“hto, 1 don’t. She’s a drefful purty young lady, and 
she paints the picturs with colors, green, and red, and 
all, as natral as life — with iles and turpentine. Haint 
ye never see it done? ” 


A M/DSmJMEIi DIVERSION. 115 

‘‘Well, yes — I think so. But Ihl like to see Iiova" 
the young lady does it.” 

“ Wall, drap in some day. I don’t suppose she’d 
keer ; she’s a very pleasant young lad} . She gev my 
son’s wife, Plorelly, suthin’ to help her rheumatiz that 
done her a sight of good.” 

“I will be sure to come,” said Moran, feeling like a 
mischievous boy setting a snare for some poor robin. 

“ Ther fust time she drawed anything at our house,” 
continued the little man, “ was arter she tied up 
Thomas JefPerson’s finger, when he l)usted the hide 
with the carving-knife. He was so drefful fond of her, 
he’d let her do most anything for him. One day she 
was there, talkin’ and lookin' round the room, and all 
the while she had her paper and pencil, and she was a 
workin’ on that, and I didn’t think nothin’ on it ; but 
perty soon my wife went round and peeked over her 
shoulder, and she bust right out larfin’ — if she didn’t 
see her old clothes-line, that stretched behind the stove, 
and everytliing there was on it, — with her old dish-rag 
hung in the middle on’t, — all drawed rite out ther in 
the pictur’. Wall, she jumped rite up and went to 
pullin’ down the blue stockins, and all the things that 
Avas a hangin’ ther; but tlie lady told her they was jest 
the things she wanted to see, — ye see, ther was a queer 
lookin’ old fire-place and mantel-shelf behind them, but 
she must hev my woman’s old dish-rag too. Neow aint 
she a stubborn beast?” This remark Avas not intended 
for his Avife, nor for Miss Langtry, but for the pensive 
steed, Avho stood stock still and refused to move. 

“ ’Taint no use to Avhip her Avhen her eyes are sot,” 
her master resignedly explained ; “ I’ll hev to kick her 
— she’s got one of her tantrums.” So saying, he 


116 


BACIIELOnS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


jumped out, went round to tlie side of the horse, and 
administered three violent kicks until he nearly tum- 
bled over himself; then clambered back into his seat, 
cried out, ‘‘Neow, g’lang, Kate!” and the animal pro- 
ceeded tranquilly down the road. 

Moran thought of the opinions of the ‘‘Society for 
Prevention of Cruelty to Animals,” and could hardly 
conceal his amusement; but his companion was too 
good a friend to lose by any indiscretion, so he blandly 
remarked : — 

“You must be very well acquainted about here; I 
hope the people are neighborly?” 

“ Oh, yes ; ” was responded with alacrity, “ I’m dea- 
con I ” 

“Ah, indeed ! and is there much of a congregation ? ” 
“ Wall, not a great sight ; folks don’t turn out much 
in winter, coz it’s so mighty cold settin’ without any 
fire ; but we’re gittin’ long, — oh, yes, we’re gittiii’ long ! 
Arter we get some hymn-books I shouldn’t be surprised 
if we give our minister a donation party ; he haint never 
had one yit. They’re awful dear tilings, though ! Wall, 
I don’t suppose the man kin live on sunshine, and he’s 
got fourteen children to bring up. Seems a drefful easy 
way of earnin’ a livin’ to jest write a little on a scrap of 
paper, and then git up and read it once a week! ” 

“ Have you ever been in a city ? ” 

“Wall, yes, once, — twenty years ago; but my wife 
liaint never been further than "The Forks;’ she liaint 
never seen a city, nor a telegraph, nor a railroad car ; 
she says the steam engine must look like Satan himself, 
from Avhat she’s heard tell ; but there’s our house now. 
jest ahead ! That painter woman may be thar ! ” 

“ Js that so ? ” quickly answeied Moran. “ I’m much 


A MIDSUM3f£n jDIF£IiSION. 


117 


obliged for my ride, Deacon, but, if you’ll allow me. I’ll 
get out here, and take a short cut across the field.” 

‘‘G’lang, Kate! I’ll hev to hit ye!” and with these 
last words, the queer equipage jolted off down the hill. 

“ Miss Langtry, are you still continuing your paint- 
ing,” asked Mr, Moran, as he saw her preparing to de- 
part with her paints and brushes the following after- 
noon, “Is it not almost finished ? ” 

“Very nearly,” replied Avis, “I think, perhaps, this 
day may complete it for the present.” 

“And you still continue in that hardened frame of 
mind that you acknowledged when I last mentioned the 
subject?” 

“Just as hardened,” said she, laughing. “ I am ac- 
tually becoming stony. Dear me! what a wrinkled 
face!” at his lugubrious expression. “I might want 
you now as a model for the ‘old man of the moun- 
tain,’” 

“ I am willing to serve in any capacity, even as a 
cdZcr-beiirer, if you will allow me.” 

“No, thank you; no such arts can avail to procure 
you admittance to my secreted studio. I understand 
the sly suggestion, but I am above all bribery. You 
cannot see the picture, sir, in that way ! ” 

“ But, if on your return, jaded with the toils of the 
day^ and laden with the spoils of war, — the picture care- 
fully concealed in a canvas bag ; the sun pouring unre- 
lentingly on your head,— if, then, you should meet as- 
sistance, would you not relent ? ” 

“ Oh, I cannot say what I would not do in case of 
imminent sunstroke ! But I must not remain to be fur- 
ther tempted ; the work will soon be over, and I a ‘ free 
and happy maiden,’ before you discover my retreat. 


118 


BACriELOnS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


Good-by, and patience assist you ! ” So saying, slie 
tri])ped lightly off across the meadow, past the brook, 
until a turn in the road concealed lier from sight. 

"•Not patience, but the deacon, shall assist me,” 
soliloquized Moran. To him will I repair, and play a 
bold game upon this tantalizing, provoking little lady. 
1 1 I can manage a walk home togetlier, surely there will 
be some favored moment, some shady spot where we 
may rest; and that question may even to-day be finally 
settled. Perhaps it would be better,” lie relied ed 
mournfully, "‘to seek a stone in the middle of a wide 
field where no one could tumble off into the water,— 
or no one fall down upon us from a tree, — or any one 
turn a corner unexpectedly. 1 could at least have the 
vantage-ground of a clear space and solitude for, per- 
haps, ten minutes. Yes, I’ll try for it, any way, for the 
time is growing short.” 

Some hours later. Avis might liave been seen before 
her easel at the deacon’s, with the deacon’s wife seated 
on “ the settee ” gravely knitting, serving as “ a model.” 
Ivvideiitljg the good woman felt the importance of the 
occasion, and subdued her excitement to compose face 
and figure. The tall clock al)Ove her head seemed to 
C(»unt aloud her heart-beats, and the kitten on the win- 
dow-sill sleepily purred its accompaniment. By Avis’ 
side Byron had hovered all day in silent but ardent de- 
light, liappy to replace any lost article with prompt but 
awkward celerity. Years before, the artistic nature had 
stirred in Byron, and had inspired him to test his powers 
with colors scraped from the best wall paper ; but 
“ mother's ” hand, administered effectually, had curbed 
the rising propensity, and Byron’s fate seemed shadowed 
forth in the potato-hoeing farmers around him. 


A 3fIDSl7M3fFn DZF/^725'/OxV. 


119 


Avis was interested in the boy, and anxious to inspire 
him with a taste for reading and cultivation. Persua- 
sively she began : “ You think so much of painting, 
Byron, I suppose you have heard of our great American 
painter, Benjamin West, liave you not, and what he ac- 
complished, though a poor boy? ” 

‘‘No; never heerd tell of him; I never read much 
about those people ; we can’t get no books here, if we 
want to, — nobody’s got any to lend.” 

“ But don’t you have Sunday-schools up here ? You 
must have some books from the library.” 

“ Haint got no Sunday-school, and haint got no 
library; we’ve just got a church this year, — and that 
haint no stove. Guess they’ll have an awful time to 
pay the minister ! There’s a Methodist comes fourteen 
miles and preaches one Sunda}^, and a Presbyterian 
comes twenty-two miles and preaches the next Sunday. 
So they keep it goin’, and kinder unite, ye know. It’s 
hard times up here for most every one, but the guides 
make the most money. Sam Boyce is good guide ; 
and he leads the singin’ in the winter ; he went to 
church t’other Sunday, and left his hound, ‘ Grant,’ to 
hum, but he forgot to tie him up, and when we was all 
sittin’ in meetin’, all quiet, we heerd the most dreadful 
racket outside ; and there was ‘ Grant ’ a chasin’ after 
a deer that had run across tlie meader, and a hootin’ 
on her, and a bellowin’ right smart.” 

“ Did the deer escape ? ” 

“Yes. Sam said if it hadn’t bin jest church time, 
he’d a shot him ; but he shot a bear last week.” 

While Byron went on relating different exploits of the 
guides. Avis was busy revolving in her mind the possi- 
bilities for enlightment and education in this mountain 
village. Suddenly she asked: — 


120 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES, 


“Are there any Episcopalians about here?” 

“Wall, I dniino,” returned Byron. “Old Orvin 
Craig shot two queer beasts on the mountains, nigh 
‘ Harvey’s Pond,’ last winter, but I dunno whether they 
be ‘ picopals ’ or not.” 

“No,” replied Avis laughing, “Episcopalians are 
neither bears, nor wolves, nor strange animals of any 
kind; their singularity consists— but I will not prejudice 
your mind with sectarian differences.” 

“ Eh? ” queried Byron in a dazed manner. 

“I mean, we will start a little library, Byron,” said 
Avis. “ If you will help me, you shall have charge of 
it, if it succeeds.” 

“ Byron’s fa^ce broke into beaming smiles as his pat- 
roness unfolded her plan for the establishment of the 
library ; she gaining enthusiasm from her own words, as 
she depicted the result in pleasure and profit to these 
winter-bound villagers so destitute of the ordinary ex- 
citements deemed essential by occupants of cities and 
towns. Byron seemed an attentive and interested 
listener ; and while her fingers rapidly impressed on the 
canvas form and color, her mind ranged over a wide 
circuit of suggestions. She did not observe that Byron 
had slipped away, and another person had taken liis seat 
behind her, and still — when she stretched out her hand 
for box, or color, or brush, they Avere as promptly af- 
forded, only — in a more dextrous way. 

“ Yes, Byron,” she continued, “ I think it can be 
carried out. I will collect the money to start it, and 
send you a box full of books to commence with, and 
show you how to keep the record of all the books taken 
out and brought in ; but, you see, you will have to learn 
to read a little better, and to write a clear hand. Now, 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION, 121 

do you think if I should give you lessons three times a 
Aveek in these two things, would you be willing to give 
time to it, and try to improve?” 

‘‘I would try,” meekly murmured, the voice by her 
side ; but her quick ear caught a tone that was not By- 
ron’s untutored accent. Looking up quickly, she met 
the laughing blue eyes of Mr. Moran. Confusion and 
blushes swept over her face ; the tone, and deprecating 
air, and absurd imitation of Byron’s manner, were too 
irresistibly amusing to avoid a smile, and yet she was 
too indignant to accord him a welcome. 

He saw the cloud impending, and whispered : ‘‘Not 
now, please, — do not scold me now ! I have an excuse ; 
wait until we go home. The deacon would bring me 
in, and how was I to know this was 'the spot you had 
chosen as your hiding-place ? ” 

“I have no doubt you knew it very well,” she began, 
but checked herself at the entrance of the deacon and 
Byron, and the consequent change of positions, amid 
commotion. 

“ Mother, this is the gentlemfin I was a speaking to 
yer about,” said the deacon, in his brisk, chirpy little 
voice. “He wanted to see them old blue chiney plates 
of yourn, that yer grandfather give ye ; he wants to buy 
one or two of them, mabey. I told him he’d better cum 
right in and look at ’em neow, fur you was agoin’ away 
next week to North Elbee.” 

“Why yes! sartinly ! ” said the old lady. “I’m 
afraid, though, they are so old-fashioned ye won’t ker 
much about ’em, and some on ’em’s cracked all through,” 
“Oh, never mind that!” replied Moran. “I like 
old things, old china and — old people,” he added good- 
humoredly, at which the deacon and his wife indulged 


122 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES, 


in a subdued chuckle that showed tliey were not un- 
mindful of the compliment, but which Miss Langtry 
disregarded Avith unbending severity. He should not 
carry off his practical jokes so lightly; she only half 
believed the visit was unpremeditated, notwithstanding 
the little deacon appeared so oflQcious. 

Yes,” said Moran, ‘‘ I have a great curiosity in such 
matters, aud am making a collection of old china for my 
mother.” 

Wall, sir,” explained the deacon’s Avife, my grand- 
father fit in the Revolution, and before that he AA^as 
quite a Avealthy man in these parts; but most of his 
things got scattered in the Avar, and only a fcAV on 
’em fell to me.” And thereupon she brought doAvn 
from an old dresser some remnants of blue and Avhite 
‘‘ willow-tree ” china, which after some negotiations 
Avere handed over to Moran’s possession. An old sugar 
boAvl filled Avith strings and corks, its cover gone, at- 
tracted his attention, and he discovered it to be at least 
one hundred years old. He relieved his conscience by 
the payment of a fcAV shillings, and gained the prize, 
although, it being cracked, the old lady Avould have 
Avillingly given it to him for nothing. 

I am afraid you are robbing yourself,” he ex- 
claimed, glancing at the small assortment of dishes for 
daily use. Will you not alloAV me to send you some- 
thing particular from the city as a remembrance of me, 
and this year’s interests ? ” 

Oh, no; I guess not. We’re purty comfortable — 
fatlier and me has most all Ave Avants, and I ain’t partic- 
ular.” 

“ Yes,” interrupted the deacon, Mother is the most 
contented Avoman 1 ever see. I tell her, she’s jest like 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION, 


123 


an old widow I heerd of, Avho was blind, and deaf, and 
lame ; but she said she was so thankful she’d two teeth 
left yit, — and one was jest opposite t’other.” 

While Mr. Moran was employed in chatting with his 
new friends. Avis had collected her materials, and was 
preparing to depart, conscious meanwhile that Moran 
was watching her movements, eager to accompany her, 
but not daring to offer after his intrusion. She wick- 
edly determined, while he was deep in his trumped-up 
business with the deacon’s wife, to slip quietly away, 
and leave him to his own devices. Not so the deacon’s 
wife, however ; she perceived Miss Langtry’s prepara- 
tions, and was too fond of lier to allow her to depart 
without notice. She lamented openly that the picture 
was wrapped up, so that the gentleman could not ex- 
amine it ; then she urged both visitors to remain to tea. 

Moran thouglit it an excellant plan, but casting a 
stealthy glance at Avis, and observing that young lady 
most resolutely declined, he expressed liis reg*rets also. 

Finally the deacon declared, as both boarded at the 
same place,” they should not walk home any way, Ibr 
he had his wagon already ‘ hitched up ’ ; and before lie 
could be prevented, to Moran’s infinite disgust, the fa- 
miliar buckboard rattled up to the door, and Kate, the 
much-enduring horse, stood ready to bear them home- 
ward. 

‘‘ Really, Miss Langtry,” Moran observed in a low 
tone as he bent to relieve her from some of her i)ack- 
ages, I think we shall have to accept the deacon’s in- 
vitation. A shower is rapidly coming up, and all these 
things are far too heavy for you.” 

It cannot be helped now, 1 suppose,” she remarked 
stiflly. “ We shall be a charming laughing-stock, how- 


124 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES, 


ever,” she added, as visions of their appearance at the 
V ell-filled piazza crossed her mind. 

Never mind ; I’ll take the responsibility of it on my 
own shoulders,” he replied soothingly, as he assisted 
her into the low seat. Byron crouched down on the 
buckbbard, and held on to the back behind ; the little 
deacon sprang like a squirrel to the edge of the seat in 
front, and wedged liimself between them ; the deacon’s 
wife smiled, and waved lier apron as good-speed. The 
deacon clapped the reins, called out, ‘‘G’lang, Kate, 
why don’t ye g’lang ? If ye don’t g’lang, I’ll hev to hit 
ye,” and Kate, inspired by the well-known sounds, con- 
centrated every joint in her body into a hitch — then 
amlded slowly down the hill. 

Gj‘adualh% as they neared the terminus of their jour- 
ney, she increased her speed to an absolute jog, so that 
they fairly lattled up to the piazza, where they feared a 
numerous part}^ of spectators. Fortunately, Modoc and 
Mrs. Langtry were the only ones to receive them; and 
the deacon had hardly turned his ‘‘ Rosinante ” home- 
ward when Modoc asked, From whence they came in 
such gorgeous array? In two minutes more I should 
have had braces under that nag to support lier ! ” 

Done it this lime, I suppose, old fellow ? ” he whis- 
pered, mtto voce,, to Moran. 

‘^No! confound it!” growled that unfortunate per- 
son. ‘‘ I got a man to help me, and he did just the 
very thing that spoilt it all, and now she’s angry too. I’m 
afraid ! ” 

Well, you do have precious good luck, don’t 3^ou ? ” 
exclaimed Modoc, comfortingly. . I’ll tell 3mu what, 
Moran, you ’ll have to change clothes with some one 
else, and so deceive the vixen, ‘ dame Fortune ’ into a 
favor. Have 11)3^ best cigar — do ! ” 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION. 


125 


IV. * 

*‘To that cathedral, boundless as our wonder, 

Whose quenchless lamps the sun and moon supply, 

Its choir, the winds and waves, its organ, thunder. 

Its dome, the sky.” 

“Proud, with a pride all feminine and sweet. 

No path can soil the whiteness of her feet.” 

‘‘Camping out” had been a j)et scheme of the Pro- 
fessor for some time, and had he been left to follow his 
own preferences, the party would have consisted solely 
of men; but when the Modoc was asked to join the 
expedition, he quickly decided that as his idea of enjoy- 
ment was becoming more and more dependent upon the 
presence of ladies, ladies there should be, — the only 
difficulty being wliether the Professor could be made to 
look upon it in the same light. Craftily he began to 
pull the wires that should lead his friends towards its 
accomplishment. And first, addressing himself to the 
Miss McBeens, he confided to them the Professor’s 
project, and enlarged upon the opportunities it would 
afford a lover of Nature for improvement. 

“ I am sure the Professor will take pleasure in adding 
to the party any one so interested in his pursuits, and 
so devoted to entomology, as you. are. Of course friv- 
olous young persons Avould find it tiresome, no doubt ; 
they would not appreciate what it is to have a useful 
object in view, but wfi should improve one another.” 

‘"Then you really think the Professor would like it?” 
cried the tliree Miss . McBeens, whose love of adventure 


12C 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


was excited. >‘It is certainly a grand opportunity to 
study the subject under the Pi'ofessor’s own eye, and, 
thank goodness, we are not weak and hel[)less like so 
many women of the day, — the Professor knows that.” 

Very well,” said the Modoc, “but let me whisj^er 
a word of wisdom: 30 U know the Professor is a diffi- 
dent seer ; should he seem hesitating or unsettled in 
his plans at fust, do not be dismayed, — a little encour- 
agement often is needed by such modest characters.” 

Thus admonished, the three Miss McBeens attacked 
the “ modest man,” and persistency and enthusiasm 
w*on the da^ . 

When informed that the Miss McBeens had deter- 
mined to accompany the Professor on his camj)ing ex- 
pedition, Mrs. J^a.ngtry promptl}^ announced that she 
should “go too.” “Yes, my dear,” she remarked to 
Avis, “you know I detest being in the woods, but I 
will have no nonsense; and if your father is blind 
cnougli to be coaxed by flatterers, I shall remain by his 
side, and look out for them. Those independent young 
women are too clever for anything, — they know too 
much already. And you must go with us, Avis. No, 
do not say a word ; I should be unhappy to leave you 
here, and you can make studies in the forest, if you 
inust.” 

Tlie party being thus largely reinforced, Modoc had 
no trouble in inducing Miss Brown and her friend. Miss 
Dorrance — a young woman of gushing tendencies and 
helpless ways — to lend also their presence. 

Tlie next morning all was preparation for the depar- 
ture of the “ Camping Outers,” as Mrs. Langtry felici- 
tously styled them. They were to try a bit of wood- 
land life under the direction of three guides ; the Pro- 


A 3nDSUMMER DIVERSION. 


127 


fessor Avas entliusiasm itself, and the Modoc readily 
joined him. Mr. Moran gave rather an unwilling con- 
sent to become one of this number of adventurers, 
until it occurred to his cousin to mention that Miss 
Langtry Avould accompany them, and Modoc smiled to 
observe how quickly the objections vanished, and the 
eager interest that replaced them. 

The bright, exhilarating morning presented an ani- 
mated picture, Avhen, equipped for their journey, there 
was gathered in front of the house a merry group 
glowing Avitli health and spirits. The Avind blew 
Leshly from the mountain tops, and stirred even the 
most sluggish to thoughts of action. The guides Avere 
men of stalwart form, their long, free step proclaiming 
the true mountaineer. Indian baskets, containing each 
seventy-five pounds of provision; blankets, ammuni- 
tion, everything that could be compactly carried, Avere 
strapped to their shoulders. The men in blue shirts, 
stout boots, and capacious pockets lield together by 
short, rough jackets, Avere moving actively about in the 
freedom of easy and becoming costumes ; the ladies, 
in short scarlet, blue, or brown mountain dresses, jaunty 
felt hats Avound about Avith gay kerchiefs, made a vivid 
color in the foreground. All Avere equipped Avith long 
Avalking-sticks to assist in climbing. In the distance, 
the mass of dark forest, between the winding line of 
dusty roadAvay, doAvn Avhich the party noAv advanced, 
the guides leading, with the Professor and the Misses 
McBeen in close following. Mrs. Langtry rode in 
state, severely upright, on the middle of the buck- 
board, Avhile Avis, with Miss Brown and Miss Dor- * 
ranee, decided to avoid fatigue by occupying the re- 
maining seats. 


128 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


The dusty road changed presently into a woodland 
path carpeted with soft, smooth pine-needles, alternat- 
ing with, and soon being overcome by, the roughness of 
enormous stones, moss-grown logs wliich lay across the 
road, and great boulders protruding from the ground. 
A wild, difficult way even for pedestrians, and only 
possible to a species of wagon like the springy buck- 
board, whicli, drawn by steady horses, tips and rolls 
and slips somehow safely over the obstructions. Mrs. 
Langtr}^ jolted into a state of gasping despair, was 
only retained in her seat by the mild force of her 
daughter ; othei^vise, she declared she would, at that 
late hour, retract her decision, and walk home. 

The first lake was at last reached, upon whose sur- 
face the guides hastened to launch the boats, in order 
to arrive at camping-ground and pitch tents before 
night-fall. Hundreds of water-falls, the breezy pines, 
mysterious woodland voices, called them on, and filled 
tiiem with a su[)reme delight in thus being brought 
heai*t to heart with Nature. 

A sense of solitude and awe crept over Avis as she 
found herself gliding over the clear waters from one 
solemn shore to another, with depths of forest beyond 
and around her. The blue heaven above seemed the 
only realm that opened outward, — the mountains lifted 
their gxeat sluidovvs even into that. Familiar faces 
filled tiie boats, it is true, but they, like herself, seemed 
wajiderers from a living, active world, drifting into an 
existence unreal, — mysterious. The first lake crossed, 
they followed a winding path, walking in Indian file, — 
an idiotic habit of the aboidgines, thouglit Moran, — till 
they launched upon a second voyage upon a second 
lake, and so at last arrived, tired and hungry, at their 


A MZDS17MM£;E DIVEBSIOJSr, 


129 


destination. The sun was near setting, and active 
preparations were necessary to fasten tent -‘poles, to 
cook a Slipper, to arrange the fragrant couches of 
green boughs, and, disposing wraps and blankets, make 
themselves comfortable for the night. 

To Mrs. Langtry the surroundings were too novel to 
be acceptable ; the unbroken stillness of the midnight 
was a horror to her, the low lapping of the waters 
against the shore made her nervous. Oil, this is bar- 
barous!” she*-cried, ‘‘and people must be lunatics to 
like it. I’m sure these pine branches are full of insects. 
I’ve killed six ants already, besides a spider ; and just 
imagine a bear or wolf poking his nose under the edge 
of that curtain without our hearing a sound. Ugh ! the 
place is full of draughts, and we shall all catch our 
deaths!” Tired nature, however, was too much for 
her watchful eyes, which closed insensibly as they 
dwelt upon imaginary foes ; the young ladies, relieved 
fiom her monologues, quickly followed example, and 
slept the sleep of the wear3\ The soft wind stirred the 
leaves without, and crept in with a gentle, rustling 
sound, but it did not disturb them; not until the sun 
sent a level shaft of light through a crevice straight 
across their line of sight did the tired eyelids unclose, 
and the fair, young creatures welcome the dawn, re- 
joicing in the novelty of this new existence. 

“ To-day we are to climb the mountain,” exclaimed 
Jliss Dorrance ; “ I am sure no day could be brighter,” 
rising, as she spoke, on tip-toe, and cautiously holding 
apart that portion of the canvas that formed the en- 
trance to reconnoitre tlie precincts of the otlier tent. 

"‘Did any one think to bring a pin-cushion?’^ moaned 
Mrs. Langtry. “ I don’t know where to put anything 
or find anything.” 


130 


BA CHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


The good woman was utterly perplexed by the lack 
of ordinary conveniences. 

Hark ! was that the cry of a wild beast ? ” she ejac- 
ulated. 

‘‘No,” laughed Miss Brown; “it is the guide’s sum- 
mons to breakfast, I think, — at least, I think it ought 
to be,” and, emerging from their tent, tliey met the 
j)leasimt congratulations and kind inquiries of their 
masculine friends, and partook of a lepast which, as 
the Modoc said, was “ pastoral, piscatorial, poetical, and 
profitable.” ‘ 

“ Do you think the prospect of a fine view favora- 
ble, if we attempt the mountain to-day?” asked Moran 
of a guide. 

“ If we start at once,” he replied. “ Will the ladies 
go?” 

“What do you say. Miss Langtry, — and the others?” 

All pi’otested “ they would not miss it for worlds,” 
except Mrs. Langtry, Avho declared nothing could in- 
duce her “to climb a hill, merely for the sake of com- 
ing down again*, — that was what it amounted to. The 
view at the top would simply be a collection of more 
hills, of which she had seen enough.” The least of two 
evils Avas to remain in camp. 

With their “ Alpenstocks ” in hand, as Miss Brown 
ambitiously termed them, they began the diflicult as- 
cent. Their path lay through thick underbrush, rank 
ferns, and sometimes directly over great boulders and 
jagged rocks, Avhile now and then an aged tree, covered 
Avilli moss, lay prostrate across the way. 

They were toiling laboriously along this uneven foot- 
path, when an exclamation of pain from Miss Dorrance, 
wlio was slightly behind, attracted Mr. Moran’s atten- 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION, 


131 


tion. Returiiino* to her assistance, he discovered she 
had caught her foot under a fallen log, over which she 
had attempted to spring, and, unable to extricate her- 
self, presented a piteous look of helpless distress. 

“•You are hardly prepared for a hard mountain climb. 
Miss Dorrance, are you?” kindly inquired he, observ- 
ing that the, pretty, slim foot, withdrawn from the hole, 
was encased in a pair of thin kid shoes, with high 
French heels. 

I fear these sharp stones will cut those boots se- 
verely. One needs the strongest leather to protect one 
from injury.” 

‘‘Y^es,” confessed she, “I suppose I was foolish ; but 
I thought the path looked smooth, and I had no idea of 
such rocks and chasms. You see, I never was in the 
mountains before, nor in woods of any extent ; and now 
— my feet ache already, and how I am to reach the top 
and return I do not know. Could I be dropped on the 
way at some house, do you think, and join you when 
you come down ? ” 

I do not think there is any house or tent whatever 
en route,,’^ he replied, ‘‘but if I can aid you to accom- 
plish it by my assistance, I shall be most happy. Can 
you take my arm until you are relieved from the ];)ain? 
If we fall too far behind we may miss the way.” 

Thus urged. Miss Dorrance made every exertion, 
but with all her efforts she was forced to lag behind, 
and the others, perceiving Mr. Moran was with her, did 
not observe her d’ffilculty, nor retard their steps 

Avis pressed on with the main party, but wondered 
why Mr. Moran should devote himself so assiduously 
to Miss Dorrance. 

At last the pedestrians, panting with fatigue, scaled 


182 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES, 


the last rocks, and found llieinselves at the sninmit, 
with such a glorious panorama of hills, valleys, lakes, 
and plains, extending in a semicircle for miles before 
them, that the sight repaid them a hundred-fold. 

The Modoc tossed his cap in excitement and elation, 
and vainly endeavored to recall some classic verse that 
would do honor to the occasion. Failing that, he ex- 
hausted himself by testing the strength of sapplings, 
exploring alarming chasms, and standing upon every 
available crag or precipice that seemed to command a 
view, until all were convinced he had nine lives to rely 
upon. 

Avis turned at the sound of her name, and saw Mr. 
Moran lightly springing over the space that divided 
them, his eyes expressing with what joy a return to her 
side was welcomed; yet they dropped into most de- 
corous talk of the scene before them, the grandeur of 
Avhich could not fail to rouse enthusiasm in any one. 

Do you notice,” said he, as he took off his hat and 
let the cool breeze fan his brow, that tlie higher we 
ascend, the loftier and grander the mountains appear? 
It is really not from standing at their base in the valley 
that we gain our just appreciation of them.” 

‘‘Yes,” replied Avis, “I have thought of it, and it 
seems to suggest the elevation of character one must 
attain to rightly estimate the true proportions of an- 
other.” 

“ That is true,” he answered heartily. “ It would 
be a death-blow to much criticism, would it not, if well 
considered? The mountains remind me of a verse I 
read not long ago in a magazine, — I wonder if you 
have seen it. I do not remember much poetry, but this 
impressed me at the time ; — 


A mnsujn/FB diversion. 


133 


“The windy Forest, rousing from its sleep, 

Voices its heart in hoarse 'litanic roar; 

The Ocean bellows by its wave-washed shore ; 

The Clouds have voices ; and the Rivers pour 
Their floods in thunder down to ocean’s floor. 

The Hills alone mysterious silence keep; 

They cannot rend the ancient chain that bars 
Their iron lips, nor answer back the sea 
That calls to them far off in vain. 

eit * 

What cries from out their stony hearts will break 
In God’s great day, when all that sleep shall wake.^^ 

Avis begged for a copy of the lines, and Moran, 
searching in his pocket for a piece of paper upon which 
to write it, could produce nothing but the blank half- 
sheet of an old letter. He wrote it quickly, and she 
put it in her pocket. 

‘‘Dinner,” called the guide in stentorian voice, and 
the word, though so inconsistent with the romantic sur- 
roundings, was received with acclamations of delight. 

A merry and a novel dinner it was, cooked thus in 
hunter’s style, beneath the giants of the forest, far, far 
away — up, heights on heights — above the busy, jos- 
tling world they knew, but could not see. Nearer 
heaven they certainly were, morally as well as physic 
cally. Slights, jealousies, vain ambitions, seemed really 
too petty to engage the attention. But a pedestal is not 
a home, — it was necessary to descend. 

“Miss Langtry, were you ever in Keene Valley be- 
fore?” asked Miss Brown as they encouraged one an- 
other down the steep inclined path. “ Miss Dorrance 
and I were here last summer, but we never came up 
Lit. Marcy. Indeed, Miss Dorrance never could be per- 
suaded to go on any tramp at all, for she was rather 


134 BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES, 

delicate. I am surprised she does so welt to-day ; but 
I suppose that is partly due to Mr. Moran. He is so 
strong, and assists her wonderfully.” 

‘‘Yes,” replied Avis, “he i& very kind. I presume 
you have met him before this year.” 

“ Miss Dorrance and I saw him when here last sum- 
mer. He is always so obliging, we quite learned to 
depend upon him.” 

“ Oh, indeed ! ” soliloquized Avis. “ Evidently Miss 
Dorrance’s dependence is not ill-placed to-day.” 

It was at that very moment that the couple thus dis- 
cussed stopped suddenly, and a sharp cry of pain es- 
caped Miss Dorrance, who declared she could go no 
further. 

“ It is my miserable boots that catch in every crev- 
ice ! ” 

“ I think you had better allow me to cut off those 
French heels,” said Moran, gravely, as he observed tlie 
distress she was enduring. “You are in danger of fall- 
ing headlong.” 

“Do you really think it would do any good? Then I 
will gladly dispense with them, if they can be removed.” 

“ I am sure you can walk better,” said Moran. He 
led her to a sort of thicket on one side of the path, 
Avhere a fallen log offered a seat, and taking out a stout 
knife, and half kneeling, prepared to relieve the penitent 
young lady of the fashionable appendages. Unfortu- 
nately, while in this position, the Modoc, Avis, Miss 
Brown, and the Misses McBeens passed by, and glanc- 
ing on one side, saw, apparently, two tired individuals 
resting and enjoying themselves. 

“Charming tableau ! ” laughed Modoc. “ Spooning, 
I suppose, — a thing I never indulge in, you knowl ” 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION. 135 

“ Mr. Moran,” said Miss Dorrance, “can I add to your 
kindness by begging one favor ? ” 

“ Certainly, what can I do ? ” 

“ I suppose you will think it very foolish, but I wish 
the absurdity of my wearing such boots on a mountain 
trip might be kept from the knowledge of the rest. You 
know how much is sometimes said about a little thing ; 
and — I have learned a lesson.” 

“ Do not let that idea disturb you for a moment,” he 
gallantly responded. “We all have to buy our experi- 
ence. Rest assured, I shall never mention it.” 

The wisdom of his suggestion was proven by the ease 
with which Miss Dorrance continued the rest of the 
journey, and no obstacle prevented their joining soon 
after the company of their friends, who they found 
awaiting them half way down the descent. 

Night-fall was deepening the shadows, and chilling 
the air, when they approached the cheerful camp-fire, 
and were welcomed with effusion by Mrs. Langtry, who 
had been thrown wholly upon the society of one indis- 
posed McBeen throughout the long, wearisome day. 
She was obliged to glean most of her information in re- 
gard to the trip from the Misses McBeen after all, a 
noticeable reticence having fallen, from one cause or an- 
other, upon the rest. 

The Modoc declared to Moran that he “believed the 
old lady regarded them as failures, in the line of duty, 
not to have killed a bear while away, or, at least, to 
have brought back a tale of one.” 

Tired as she was that evening. Avis found time be- 
fore retiring to draw from her pocket the paper upon 
which Mr. Moran had written the verses he had repeated 
to her, and after perusing them once more, she was 


I 


130 BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 

about refolding the sheet, when a few unfamiliar words 
met her eye. 

At the top of the page, half covered by a fold in the 
paper, was a postscript, evidently the conclusion of a. 
letter on a previous sheet. It ran thus : “ P. S. — I heai 
that the pretty charmer you met last summer is in yout 
vicinity. Have you seen her yet? ” 

The thought of Miss Dorrance flashed into the mind 
of the reader. 

Did not Miss Brown remark that very day, that both 
she and her friend had seen a great deal of Mr. Moran 
last summer ? Yes, — the unknown correspondent 
might be correct, — some might call her pretty ! ” Her 
cavalier had certainly been most particular in his atten- 
tions that day, and the tableau under that shady re- 
treat could not be easily forgotten. Still, Avis’ faith in 
John Moran’s sincerity would not allow her to accuse 
him unproven, only, — some way, she wondered she had 
ever been so enthusiastic over this mountain trip. 

Light fingers were festooning the entrance to theii* 
tent with wild clematis and bunches of red-berries, when 
an excursion was proposed to a cave not far distant. 

It is said,” Modoc remarked, “ to be so extremely 
cold within, that ice can be obtained even in the warm- 
est season. The guides have brought out immense 
pieces for our meals.” 

‘‘A cave !” echoed Miss Brown and Miss Dorrance ; 
‘‘oh, we are wild to explore a genuine cave. Is it 
long ? ” 

“About two miles from end to end ; there are some 
stalactites and huge boulders, a devil’s pulpit, of course ! 
When was ever a cave without one ? ” 

“It is not at all dangerous. Miss Langtry,” said Mo- 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION, 


137 


ran, in a low voice, bending towards her, “ the guides 
carry torches all the way, and are accustomed to the 
trip.” 

Will you go, mother?” said Avis. 

Mi-s. Langtry sat, the picture of discomfort, on a log 
near the camp-fire, her skirts well tucked up to avoid 
pestilential creeping things, and the familiar helmet- 
shaped hat on her head. 

‘‘No, indeed,” was the tart reply ; “think of deliber- 
ately putting myself under ground ! I should smother 
before I had gone a rod ! Why do you want to go in 
such awful places. Avis? I cannot understand the 
fancy ! ” 

“ Father is going, and they say there is really nothing 
to alarm one. We shall all be back before you have 
missed us.” 

The Professor, arrayed in a long alpaca coat of such 
expansive proportions as might convey a whole cabinet 
of geological specimens, promptly put himself at the 
head of the explorers, and his portly form, with its steady 
step, was followed directly by the three McBeens, in 
formal procession, anxious to avail themselves of any 
information that lay in his wake. 

Although the day was sultry, the guide counseled 
warm wraps, and the caution was not unnecessary, for 
upon entering the aperture, which was hardly five feet 
high, a chill in the atmosphere was very perceptible. 
The ladies drew their shawls around them, and as they 
clambered over huge boulders and descended into dark 
abysses, or stood half frightened in cool recesses, vainly 
striving to discern the extent of the shadowy vaults 
overhead, the echoes of their own voices startled them, 
and little Miss Dorrance inwardly quaked with, horror. 


138 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES, 


and devoutly wished herself again in the bright sun- 
shine. She was naturally timid, and recognizing in Mr. 
Moran a protector, she seemed to gain courage only 
when at his side, encouraged by his reassuring voice. 
He found full occupation in assisting both Avis and her- 
self through narrow passages and over slippery places, 
wet with the moisture that dripped from the calcareous 
deposits. At last they reached a dark, gloomy pool, 
over which hung “the Devil’s Pulpit,” a high pointed 
rock worn away by the action of water. At its base 
they all gathered in silent wonder, and endeavored to 
fathom with their fearful glances the depths of the black 
water that lay motionless at their feet. No ripple dis- 
turbed its surface, no sunlight ever illumined its dark- 
ness. The light of the torch gleamed here and there on 
icy portions which no summer warmth could ever melt, 
and roused a host of murky shadows from their dark re- 
treats to flit before their eyes in uncertain forms. 

“ Miss Langtry,” Avis heard Mr. Moran whisper, “ if 
you would just step the other side of this rock and no- 
tice the effect the torchlight has upon the cavern be- 
yond, it would repay you ! It is only a little way — only 
a few steps — just follow me.” 

Avis turned, without question, and walked after his 
retreating figure, and neither observed that Miss Dor- 
rance also kept closely behind them, imagining they 
were moving on towards the exit. The moment they 
skirted the base of the “ Pulpit ” a complete darkness 
enveloped them, but supposing a few steps more would 
bring them into the light they pressed forward. Tliey 
had not lieard the guide’s injunction as they started, 
that all should remain perfectly still while he extin- 
guished his flickering torch and relighted another. 


A DJ VERSION. 


ISO 


“It is dreadfully dark,” lamented Avis, as still no 
liolit appeared, ‘‘ a darkness that can be felt, and the 
air seems so close. Do you not think it strange we do 
not see the torch. They cannot have gone on, can 
they? Are we near the pool? One might fall in that 
miserable hole, and die from sheer fright. I wonder if 
it has any bottom ! ” 

A faint, piteous cry sounded behind her, but she did 
not hear it, or supposed it an echo. 

‘‘ Do not fear, my dear Miss Langtry,” answered 
Moran. “ Merely take a few steps farther here, just 
to my side. The light must surely be here in a moment. 
Are you very cold? ” for he felt her trembling so that 
she could scarcely stand, and the increasing Aveight of 
lier yielding figure made him place his arm support- 
ingly about her waist, as he whispered : “ There ! see, 
I have you safe ! Nothing shall harm you I You trust 
me, do you not, my dearest ? Do not fear, my darling, 
— the light is coming. There it is, and all the others! ” 

But a delicate head had sunk down upon his shoul- 
der, and the form he held felt nerveless and rigid. A 
cold tremor seized him. He knew she had fainted. 
With a hurried glance, he half turned, and saw in the 
distance a faint glimmer Avhich convinced him they 
were really not far from the exit, and that a path led 
directly to it. Raising his voice he shouted, ‘‘Fainted I 
Follow as soon as possible I ” and then, folding his help- 
less burden more closely in his arms, he carefully, 
though anxiously, hastened doAvn the rugged, winding 
2)ath that l)rought liini at length to the sweet fresh 
outer air. Before he had quite gained it, the others 
had overtaken him, and, as he emerged into the light 
with his fair burden, he cast one loving, anxious look at 
the face lying so quietly on his breast. 


140 


BACHELORS ANB BVTTERELIES. 


It was the face of Miss Dorrance. HuiTying tip with 
the others, who surrounded him with words of eager 
inquiry, was Miss Langtry, apparently as well as ever. 

The fresh air and a little water soon restored the 
malapropos maiden, who proteste4 she was extremely 
‘‘sorry to give so much annoyance.” Slie had been 
first thoroughly chilled by the dampness, and then 
frightened by the darkness, but Was now so far re- 
stored as to be perfectly able to walk home with the 
others. • 

Mrs. Langtry was rather pleased with the expedition 
when she found they had such a romantic event to re- 
late. 

“ If you must visit such outlandish places, I like to 
hear on your return of something more interesting than 
accounts of views and descriptions of trees and grass.’' 

To Avis she confided the conviction that “ silly little 
Miss Dorrance must have been a great bother,” and 
she “ wondered Mr. Moran had strength to drag her 
out of that cave.” 

The twilight faded into evening as the little party 
sat about their camp-fire, talking over tlie events of the 
day, and rivalling each other in stories of wit and iid- 
venture. The bright red flames leaped and danced 
upon the logs of pine and hemlock, and Wound them- 
selves in sinuous folds up the knarled and crooked 
branches, till, still ascending, they reached out yellow, 
darting tongues to lap the cooling air. Now dying 
down, now flashing out, turning, wreathing, ever mov- 
iiig- . ^ ^ . 

Avis watched with fascinated gaze its brilliant evo- 
lutions, for the time as eager a “fire-worshiper” as 
any pagan of olden time. 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION, HI 

The hunters’ graphic stories of deers and bears so 
tinctured the mind of Mrs. Langtry with uncomfortable 
Ihncies, that she declared she would hear them no 
longer, and insisted upon retiring, — only to repeat 
them in her dreams. The ladies followed her example, 
and all were soon apparently lost in heavy slumber. 

Avis, however, iay awake for some time, reflecting 
upon the mysterious circumstance by which Mr. Moran 
seemed constantly fastened to the side of Miss Dor- 
ranee. The tender tones that his voice had betrayed in 
the darkness of the cave were, then, not addressed to 
her, but to this “ charmer,” who must have been very 
near him. “ Was it possible he was attempting to cul- 
tivate two fancies at the same time? If not, why upon 
their return had' he appeared cold and constrained, and 
seemed to avoid meeting her eye ? Was there anything 
to conceal ? ” 

“Fannie,” whispered a soft voice at this moment, 
“ are you asleep ? ” 

“ No,” murmured Miss Brown, half awakened, “ but 
the rest are ! ” 

“ Fanny, I want to tell you something, if j^ou’ll prom- 
ise to keep it a secret.’' 

Miss Brown grew immediately wakeful, and promised 
with alacrity. 

“ What is it, dear ? ” 

“ Why, it was so queer, but do you know, when I was 
lialf fainting, — I didn’t quite faint, you know — but 
felt so dizzy and cold I couldn’t speak,^ — well, after I 
got over the first fright, I found that Mr. Moran was call- 
ing me 'dearest’ and 'precious’ and 'treasure,’ and all 
sorts of pet names, and asking me to open my sweet 
eyes or he would never forgive himself for bringing me 


142 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


to the place, and — then I tried to say something, but it 
was dark, and I could not open my lips, — tlie}^ felt 
stiff. Then I went off into a sort of stupor again, but, 
do you know, — I think he kissed me ! — I’m sure of it ; 
it was that brought me to, more than anything ! ” 

The practical Miss Brown evidently considered this 
food for reflection. “ Has he ever shown you any sign 
of affection before ? ” she at length demanded. 

Well, I don’t know, — he Avas extremely kind, you 
knoAv, the day we went up the mountain. He did not 
shpw any one else as much attention ; and this morning 
he came and begged to get my shaAvl for me, saying 
1 was a sensitive plant that needed watching. No, 
— I don’t really know^ Fannie ; you see, I never had a 
regular lover and I don’t exactly know how they begin. 
Last summer he walked a good deal with mother and 
me, but he did not say much to me. Only I heard that 
he remarked to some one that ‘ my eyes were the most 
azure blue he had ever seen ! ’ What should you think 
about it, Fannie ? ” 

1 would not think anything more about it to-night I 
Go to sleep ; and to-morrow we will both notice his 
manner — that will decide. How queer it was, though ! ” 
With the last remark, silence reigned in the tent 
again, but sleep was far from one pair of eyes. Avis’ 
first impulse had been to inform the confidants of her 
wakefulness, but so suddenly did the confession begin, 
that, ere she could realize the secrecy, she had heard 
too much. If she spoke she might be drawn into 
a revelation of her own position. She had no right to 
assert his love for her — he had never yet really de- 
clared it. Might he not Avish to retreat from all those 
half-ultered avowals? This pretty, foolish Miss Dor- 


J MIDSUMJ/FPi i)/p:eps/ojv. 


143 


ranee might be the sort of person lie fancied after alh 
So he had kissed her ! A liot flush mounted to her 
cheek. Strange ! Yes, as Miss Brown had wisely af- 
firmed, the morrow must certainly explain it one way or 
another : anything but this miserable uncertainty ! 

The morning dawned ; but they were all awakened by 
the patter of a steady rain. It dripped from the eves ; 
it ran down the centre-pole and formed a hollow at its 
base ; it stood in pools about the tent pins and tlie 
door, and the pretty vines and mosses they had fastened 
about it presented a melancholy aspect of limp satura- 
tion. Outside the prospect was worse : the trees were 
reservoirs of water, and the ground so filled with mois- 
ture the foot sunk in at every step. 

It is evidently to be a wet ‘ nasty’ day through and 
through!” was the Modoc’s comment. ‘AVho would 
have believed the weather would behave so abominably? 
‘ General Probabilities ’ said nothing about it. What 
f^hallwedo?” 

‘‘We might study human nature,” said Miss Brown. 
“ We have some fine specimens, and perhaps Miss Mc- 
Beeii will help us to classify.” 

“I should begin with the Darwinian origin of the 
species, if I do,” replied that person. “ Have you speci- 
mens of that?” 

“ I do not pity any of you,” exclaimed Mrs Langtry. 
“ It is no more than I acticipated ; I never expected to 
be comfortable on such a trip ; but you were all so sure 
it would be charming. Now if there is anything pleas- 
ant in having buckets of water pouring down upon your 
back, with nothing but a canvas roof between, and very 
likely thunder and lightning before we get through, I 
should like to know it!” 


144 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERELIES. 


‘‘Pleasure we still may have, I think,” urged Avis 
cheerfully; “only it will be of an indoors sort. Each 
one will have to contribute his portion.” 

“ In other words, we must learn to be contented,” 
emphasized the Modoc. “ Songs, readings, and ray 
pack of caids will be in order, and afterwards Moran 
can sketch the faces of the audience while I play ‘ the 
phantom spectre.’ Fun I of course we’ll have fun ! ” 

And very well did the plan succeed for the first day ; 
but when a second came, and it still continued to rain, 
the confinement grew irksome to all. Even the guides 
declared that should the days following prove clear, the 
woods would be too wet to admit of much sport ; so it 
was decided “ to break camp,” and begin the journey 
home, the more so as the provisions Avere at a low ebb. 
Trouting had been conducted at intervals with suffi- 
cient success to allow them the boast of a few captured, 
and the Professor, by persistence, had added some curi- 
osities to his collection, but on the whole it was rather 
a disappointed party that, under a cloudy sky, began a 
slow return. Clad in rubber waterproofs and lioods well 
drawn over their heads, they looked like a band of wan- 
dering Esquimaux or a crowd of animated seals ; any- 
thing but the bright, picturesque group that had so 
merrily taken possession a few days before. They con- 
tinued a steady tramp for more than a mile, each ani- 
mated seal following the one in advance with greatest 
precision, until they reached the first lake, when the 
clouds suddenly scattered, and the sun burst forth with 
wonderful brightness, and every little leaf, trembling 
with its weight of drops, gleamed and glistened with an 
umber light. Human hearts also reflected the joy of 


A Mrnsr/Mjf/^R diversion. lj;5 

creation, and regained their merry spirits, till the lake- 
side eclioed with their songs. 

Soon the path broadened, and Mr. Moran directly 
availed himself of its width to step beside Avis. She 
liad divested herself of her cloak, and even her hat, to 
enjoy the grateful warmth and sunlight. Her cheek 
was reddened with the exercise, and her eyes sparkled 
with animation and the sense of delicious sweetness ; 
her hair, partly loosened, touched with its thick, dark 
masses the bright kerchief knotted carelessly around 
her throat. She walked like a queen, with liead erect 
in exquisite poise ; and to her lover she seemed a fair 
Diana, presiding goddess of these Avild-wood charms. 

“Miss Langtry,” he said, “I have as yet had no 
chance to explain the little misunderstanding that be- 
fell Its in the cave that day. I should like to do so if 
you will permit me.” 

“ There is nothing that needs explanation, I think,” 
she quickly i*eplied, the color deepening in her cheek, 
at remembrance of the confession she had overheard. 

“Are you sure you understand all the circum- 
stances ? ” he asked gently. 

“I suppose so; we were all present most of the time; 
and an attack of fainting is hot difficult to understand.” 

“Ah, but you don’t know, then, that I Avas mistaken. 
I Avas so afraid ydu might have heard of it other- 
Avise — that I thought, oh I do you knoAV, I imagined 
M iss Dorrance Avas yourself, until I had cariied her out 
into the light.” 

“Well, I suppose,” ansAvered Miss Langtiy, smiling; 
“ that made no difference. You Avould surely have 
taken her out just the same, whoever it was, Avould 
you not ?’’ 


14G 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


All, but, you know ! I said some things in my 
emotion that were not just — well I should not have 
said them if — ” 

Look out for hornets ! ” called a voice ; “ quick, they 
are after us ! Dodge, and run if you can ! ” 

Moran was so engrossed with this conversation, which 
meant so much to him, that he did not at first hear the 
warning, not until the Modoc went flying past exclaim- 
ing as he ran, “ By the jumping Jehosapliat ! 1 must 

get out of this. I’ve started a hornet’s nest, and the 
whole swarm is after us ! ” 

The guides, with assistance, finally rescued the be- 
sieged, not without trophies of combat, and the ground 
bore evidence of great numbers slain. 

“ What in the world w^ere you doing ? ” asked Mrs. 
Langtry severely of Modoc, when they had rejoined 
the others, who fortunately had been in advance. 

Taking specimens for the Professor,” he responded ; 
“ the nest hung on a tree just near me, and I thouglit it 
Avas empty, and gave it a mighty whack, and forth 
came an army.” 

The Professor wished to go back immediately and 
examine the size of the nest, but this idea Mrs. Langtry 
veheinentlj^ opposed. “ Do let us keep together,” cried 
she, ‘‘ and make haste to reach a civilized dwelling as 
soon as possible. I am tired of living like a barba- 
rian ! ” 

As a prospect of reaching that desired haven drew 
near, she did not hesitate to deprecate delay, and urged 
on, with reanimated spirit, the little party that toiled 
wearily over the space that lay between them and the 
place they called home. 

Late that afternoon the company at ‘‘the Maples” 


A mDS(7MM£r. DIVERSION. 


147 


was astonished to see a party of limp, demoralized pe- 
destriarjs approach, whom they with some difficulty rec- 
ognized as their friends. The Professor nourished Ins 
cane in token of recognition, and the Modoc shouted. 
Hail, the conquering hero comes ! ” but it was evi- 
dently the last effort of exhausted nature, and a clear- 
ing-up shower putting an end to all further demonstra- 
tions, obliged them to seek shelter within the portals of 
the well-conducted house with less grace than celerity. 


V. 

“Marry, and shall be done to-morrow if I life .” — Twelfth Night 

It could not be denied that Mr. Moran was a most 
discouraged man. If an experience such as he had just 
passed through could not afford an opportunity to speak 
Ins mind, what reason to hope from the few days that 
remained ? His business partner warmly urged his re- 
turn, and still he lingered to decide that question. He 
felt too depressed to take part in the amusements with 
which the company endeavored to enliven the evening, 
and sat at a table, removed at some distance from the 
others, apparently absorbed in last week’s newspaper, 
but not unobservant of a “detestable young sprig,” as 
he mentally termed a new comer wlio was particularly 
attentive to Miss Langtry, abetting ardently her efforts 


148 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


for sociability with amiable persistence. Mrs. Langtry 
was in her element. She becmne a genial spirit of in- 
discriminate praise and hilarity, encouraging charades, 
tableaux, and general merry-making. Ready to take 
part in anything, she even allowed herself to be con- 
verted into a mummy, and exhibited for sale. The 
mummy unfortunately was seized with an internal con- 
vulsion in the midst of the bargain, and shook ; to such 
an alarming degree that the buyer refused to complete 
the purchase of such an old ruin. 

The sprightly Misses Bentley, perceiving the apathy 
of Mr. Moran to all tlieir lively sallies, mentally de- 
nominated him, A sour old bachelor, without one par- 
ticle of fun in his composition.” 

He was meanwhile reflecting how he might contrive 
a long conversation with Avis the following daJ^ It 
was useless to attempt the . idea while in the house ; the 
rooms were too much occupied to admit of any seclu- 
sion ; the chill air in this rarifled atmosphere forbade 
evenings on the piazza, and, besides, he had tried it 
once, to his cost, and found it a dangerous thing. A 
walk always implied the presence of her mother, or 
that of some other friend. “ If neither land nor water 
Avould afford him any seclusion, he might go up with 
her in a balloon. Then, no doubt, there would be 
twenty who would wish to ascend at the same time.” 
Yes, he was willing to accept Mrs. Langtry for a 
mother-in-law, and become a model son to the Profes- 
sor, if he might win their daughter for bis wife. Ho^y 
])roud he should be to present her to his mother and 
sisters — they could not help loving her ! ” For a while 
he indulged in a succession of pleasing mental pictures 
wliereiii Avis was the central figure, honored with uni- 


A DIVERSION, 


149 


versal admiration wherever she went. If he could only 
have one quiet day with her — then — • 

“ That wan that hath a tongue, I say, is no man, 

If with his tongue he cannot win a woman.’’ 

The ‘‘ Modoc ” was a good-hearted fellow,— what if 
he should confide in him ? Together they might devise 
some plan that could ideally be accomplished — choose 
some opportunity tliat would succeed. This cousin of 
his seemed fortunate in all he undertook. If a tendency 
to flirtation had not been evident from his boyhood, 
Moran thought he should really believe that the Modoc 
too was about to desert the bachelors ; his attentions to 
Miss Brown Were unflagging, yet he found time to in- 
terchange a few jovial words with almost every human 
being that crossed his path. Moran envied the young 
fellow his exuberant spirits, which made light of trou- 
ble and in some way converted every difficulty into a 
pastime^ 

“One does indeed pay heavily for experience with 
loss of youthful vivacity,’’ thought he, sighing ; and he 
wondered humbly if Miss Langtry, with her beauty and 
youth, could ever love such a plain, undemonstrative 
man as himself. Would she be able to look beyond the 
matter-of-fact exterior, and pei^eive the true, loving, 
young John Moran that he felt assured hved concealed 
from ordinary sight, and would never grow old ? 

Like some people of reflective habits, he cherished 
the idea that his visible self and his inner self were two 
distinct beings. John Moran, unknown, unappreciated, 
sitting in judgment in common with the public, upon 
John Moran visible and known. 

Ho^y sweetly Miss Langtry looked with that pretty 


ir.O BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 

flush upon her cheeks, her eyes sparkling with amuse^ 
ment at the evening’s entertainment ! He wished many 
times that the games were all ended and he could 
snatch a few moments of her society ; but he had not 
a single opportunity that evening nor the following 
day; she having been invited to pass it with some 
friends at a distance. After fishing all the morning, it 
occurred to his mind that it would be the part of wis- 
dom to ingratiate himself with Mrs. Langtry, and he 
therefore proposed a walk together. 

‘‘ I can’t go far,” replied that lady, flattered by the 
attention, but I should like to see Avhat the Professor is 
doing. He went away in that direction,” pointing to- 
wards the river, “ with the three Miss McBeens. Can 
you see why 3’oung ladies want to go about looking for 
specimens, even if they are school-teachers ? The Pro- 
fessor thinks so much of them, — says they are ^ so es- 
timable,’ ‘have so much mind.’ I hate estimable peo- 
ple with superior minds ! don’t you? Just imagine — 
I gave the Professor, the other day, one of my best silk 
handkerchiefs to. tie around his throat, — he always 
catches cold in his throat, — and the next day I sav/ 
that youngest Miss McBeen with it on her hat ; he had 
given it to her. It is of no use to scold him ; he always 
looks so innocent, and replies so mildly, ‘ Why, ni}' 
dear, I didn’t mean any harm ; they are lovely young 
ladies, — a great deal younger than you or I ’ ! ” 

Moran and Mrs. Langtry started on their Avalk t( 
gether, but had not proceeded very far when they c;;m 
upon the Modoc, stretched upon tliQ grass, in a shad} 
nook, reading aloud to Miss Brown and her friend, wlio 
were perched upon a rock near by. 

“ What a sylvan picture of contentment ! ” exclaimed 


A MIBSUiMMEU EIVEESlOiV. 


151 


Moran. “It reminds me of one of Tenn 3 -son’s ‘Idyls.’ ” 

“Which one?” queried Modoc, with an innocent air; 
^ “ that about the — 

' “ Five little Injuns, who went to Labrador, 

One got married, and then there were four ” ? 

“ What a sweet ditty ! Is there more of it ? ” asked 
Miss Brown, laughing. 

“ Oh, 3 "es ; five or six verses. The band of small In- 
juns grows mournfully less, until they are reduced to 
one ; he commits suicide in grief for his lost comrades, 
and then — there are. none. It is so pathetic it always 
draws tears from my e^^es ; but the moral is the touch- 
ing part, — ask Moran to explain it, he knows that best; 
1 often sing it for him at the twilight hour. I’ll do so 
now ; ” and he began to sing in a high-keyed, nasal 
voice ; but Moran, suspicious of the personal applica • 
tion, hurried Mrs. Langtry on, Avith the remark, she 
“must be eager to be relieved from such nonsense, and 
it was necessary to continue their walk.” 

Modoc gazed after them with a knowing air, and be- 
gan humming in low tones, “ Let me kiss him for his 
mother.” 

Moran threw back upon him an indignant glance, 
and Mrs. Langtry remarked : — 

“ Has that young man ever had any religious train- 
ing? I wish I knew his mother; and that pretty Miss 
Brown — I hope she will not lose her heart to such a 
wild fellow as he is. Imagine them married — how could 
she ever consult with him about the price of meat or 
the quantity of coal ? Such things are necessary, — 
people can’t live on love ! Then he’d break all the 
furniture in the house in less than a week, with his 
careless tricks, I am sure.” 


152 


BACIlELOnS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


“ Sometimes,” said Moran, these spirited young fel- 
lows make the best sort of husbands; one can’t always 
tell how they’ll settle down.” 

“ I suppose you were always a steady, well-behaved 
young man, Mr. Moran, were you not?” she asked, in 
a confidential tone. 

Did she mean to reflect on his lack of jollity, — his 
rather apathetic manner or did she wish to inter- 
view ” his past life in the light of a future son-in-law ? 
He answered quietly : A man’s words in regard to 
himself are not of much value, Mrs. Langtry; but I 
have had tw’o strong anchors to keep me in a right 
path, — a busy life and a pleasant home.” 

They came upon the Professor, at last, seated on the 
end of a bridge, with the three “ Miss McBeens ” 
ranged in front of him, to whom he was explaining the 
formation and habits of several beetles and insects, as- 
sisted by some colored plates. Mrs. Langtry’s eyes 
sparkled with indignation wdien she perceived one of 
her pretty china vases standing by the Professor’s side, 
half-filled with muddy water, and more when she saw 
him delicately removing, Avith the point of his knife, 
the wing of a butterfly from the hand of the youngest 
Miss McBeens, an operation he seemed to enjoy. 

The Professor did not appear at all disturbed by 
their intrusion, and heartily invited them both to ex- 
amine his microscope ; but Mrs. Langtry replied that 
she could not abide bugs any way, and the less she saw 
of them the better. 

“Ezra, it is getting very near tea time,” she re- 
marked, significantly. “We shall all be late if we do 
not start at once.” 

The Professor meekly gathered up his materials, say- 


A MlDSUMMm DIVEIiSION. 153 

ing, as he did so, Yes, yes, my dear, you know I 
promised at the altar to obey ! ” which mild jest was so 
much applauded by the Miss McBeens that he came to 
the conclusion, for once in his life he had really perpe- 
trated an excellent joke. 

It was evening before Moran found an opportunity 
of introducing the subject of his grievances ta the 
Modoc. “ This has gone on long enough, my dear fel- 
low, 3^ou see,” said the unfortunate man. 

“ Yes, I sliould think so,” replied the Modoc. “About 
two months now, is it not, you’ve been trying to catch 
the winged Cupid ? ” 

“ W ell, it is probable it would have been done sooner 
if you had not interfered twice yourself. What pos- 
sessed you to start a hornet’s nest, at the only time I hud 
Miss Langtiy to m)^self while we were on that miserable 
trip ? It was awfully trying to he interrupted then ! 
Couldn’t you think of anything else to do?” 

“You prefer Cupid’s arrows to hornet’s stings, don’t 
you?” laughed Modoc. “How did I know you were 
within gunshot of me ? You don’t expect to have an 
island to yourself, like ‘Paul and Virginia,’ do you? 
Or to be shut up in a box together, until the ordeal is 
passed, and then call out to me tlirough the keyhole to 
open the door, and announce the happy pair in Gran- 
disonian style ? ” 

“What nonsense!” remonstrated Moran. “I only 
wish you would keep out of the way.” 

“ Let me keep in, and I’ll see you through it to-mor- 
row I You’ve never tried one of those excursions that 
are so common here. If you and I were to accompany 
Miss Brown and Miss Langtry, and their mothers, to 
see the ‘ Silver Cascade,’ and take luncheon in the 


154 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


woods, the thing would surely be done. What could 
hinder? The two matrons would gossip together, and 
leave two couples to — well — converse ! ” 

‘‘ I am doubtful of its success, but we can try it ! ” 
answered Moran, as he knocked the ashes £i*om his 
cigar. 

‘‘Of course you won’t speak of the idea to any one 
else.” 

“ Not a word.” 

They lost no time in unfolding the plan to the young 
ladies, and expatiating upon the desirability of making 
a fine sketch of the famous water-fall Miss Langtry had 
so often. wished to see. 

“ Just ourselves, you know,” said Miss Brown ; “ it 
will be so nice ! Your mother, of course, will accom- 
pany us, will she not ? Do say yes, Miss Langtry, — I 
shall not go without you.” 

Avis hesitated ; “ I do not like picnics, you know, 
Fannie, but I do think a quiet day in the woods might 
be very enjoyable. I will speak to mother about it, if 
you wish it.” 

“A picnic ! — oh, no, indeed ! ” said Moran ; “ nothing 
like a picnic. I would not go to one for the world. 
My only memory of picnics recalls some school celebra- 
tions, where all the children seemed ubiquitous, and the 
poor ones carried off the remnants of the feast in bags.” 

“ I remember,” added Modoc, “ marching proudly 
at the head of my class to one, and then being sent 
back home in disgrace, sliortly after, for engaging in a 
pitched battle with a plucky little ragamuffin.” 

“ I fear you must have been always an ‘ enfant ter- 
rlhlef!' sighed Miss Brown, smiling indulgently at the 
offender. 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION, 


155 


i Oh, I was my father’s hope, my mother’s joy.” 

[ “ Then it is all arranged that we go to-morrow,” in- 
lerrupted Moran, cheerfully. I hope it will prove a 
pleasant day ! ” 

Notliing could be more agreeable than the prospect 
Et 23resent,” replied Miss Brown, ‘‘and I am so selfish 
!l shall insist upon the benefit Mrs. Langtry will con- 
fer upon us by deciding to join the company.” 

Mrs. Langtry’s consent having been asked and given, 
the little party separated for the night, Avith bright anti- 
cipations of the morrow. 




VI. 

“No fret of life may here intrude 
To vex the sylvan solitude, 

Pure spirits of the earth and air 

From hollow trunk and bosky lair 

Come forth and hear your lover’s prayer.” 

— Bayard Taylor, 

Moran and Modoc were out early on the piazza the 
following morning, Avaiting for the ladies to appear. 
Their amazement was intense to see the numerous per- 
sons Avho emerged from the door bonneted and shaAvled, 
Avith camp-chairs, baskets, and books, etc., evidently 
prepared to spend the day in the Avoods. 

Won’t Ave have a jolly time at the picnic? ’’said 
one small boy to another. “ It's lucky I found out 
there Avas going to be one, for mother Avould have 
slipped off Avithout me if she could.” 


156 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


‘‘ Yes, we’re all going,” answered a second boy, “and 
the nurses too.” 

‘‘Whose picnic is it?” asked another. 

“ Oh, I don’t know — I heard something about Miss 
Langtry and Miss Brown, but I didn’t exactly under- 
stand ; I’m going to take my pop-gun, any way.” 

“ Then I shall take my drum ! ” 

“ Look here ! ” cried the Modoc, striding up to Moran, 
“ what, in heavens, is the meaning of this ? Are all 
these infantile tribes going on our excursion, — not to 
speak of their cousins and aunts? Who invited them?” 

“Can’t say,” replied Moran in a vexed tone, “but I 
have my suspicions. What a sliame to spoil the whole 
thing in tliis way.” 

“Isn't this nice?” exclaimed Mrs. Langtry, in a 
julhlant voice, as she approached them at this moment. 
“ Everybody’s going, — even to asthmatic Mr. Gray. I 
invited tliem all, — I thought it would be so sociable, 
and the more the merrier, you know. It was quite a 
surprise to Avis, even, for I didn't say a word to her 
about it until they were all invited ; but when slie 
asked me to go and spend the day in the woods, the 
thought came in my mind what a grand thing a regular 
picnic would be. I used to be so fond of them when I 
was young, and I knew you’d all be delighted; so I 
just took the whole thing entirely in my own hands, — 
quietly.^ you know, — and here we all are ; every one 
accepted.” 

“ I don’t care for processions and caravans myself,” 
exclaimed Modoc, ungraciously; “but I cannot see how 
we are all to bo carried tliere ? ” 

“ Oh, I’ve engaged all the wagons to be had, and the 
ladies and children just fill them. I told the Professor 


A DivRBsro.y, 


i:t 

T knew the gentlemen WvOiild prefer to walk with liim ; 
and the three Miss McBeens say they also desire the 
exercise.” 

‘‘ Rapturous plan ! ” commented the Modoc to Moran 
in a low tone; ‘‘fills my heart with joy. We shall 
trudge ecstatically onward, with a McBeen apiece, to- 
tally oblivious of dust and heat. Miss Langtry and 
Miss Brown will smile upon us benignly from the 
height of the wagon-seat, where they will sit sur- 
rounded by gleeful cherubs, covered with molasses 
candy, and singing, ‘ I want to be an angel.’ ” 

“The wagons are ready!” called out the drivers, 
and — so were the children. They clambered in imme- 
diately, «md were scolded or coaxed out again by mor- 
tified mothers. At last all Avere accommodated ; each 
child uproarious, but held firmly bj^ an older hand. 
Mrs. Langtry sat in triumph by the driver, her face 
beaming Avith satisfaction. 

Just as they Avere about to drive off. Avis perceived 
a small boy of ten, standing in a corner of the piazza, 
the picture of misery; “big, round tears coursed one 
another doAvn his innocent nose in piteous chase.” 

“Algy,” she called, “ Avhat is the matter? Are you 
not going ? ” 

His mother, a delicate-looking lad3g came up quickly 
at these Avords : “No; poor Algernon Avill have to re- 
main at home, I fear. I am not Avell enough to go my- 
self, and I cannot allow him to join the party Avitliout 
some one to look after him. Poor child, he is so disap- 
pointed ! ” 

iVIiss Langtry took the hint, and good-naturedly re- 
plied, Oh, let him come ! I Avill see to him.” 

‘"Oh, Avill you? Hoav very good! Algernon, you 


158 


BACJIELOnS AND BUTTERFLIES, 


will be a nice boy, will you not, and mind every word 
Miss Langtry says ? ” 

Yes, yes, I will,” eagerly cried the small misan- 
thrope of the previous moment. “ Hi, yi ! Tom Jack- 
son, — I’m going after all ! ” and without more ado he 
scrambled into the space made for him, and all the party 
departed with numerous cheers. 

"‘Nice sort of bo}^ to have in charge,” commented 
Moran to the Modoc, as they w^alked slowly along in 
company with the Professor and the three Miss Mc- 
Beeiis. "" He’s the chap that tied those chicken’s legs 
together the other day to see them hop, and pushed the 
pig into the cellar to riot all night. Afterwards, when 
a severe [)uiiisliment seemed impending for the sad 
havoc created among the provisions, I understand he 
secreted himself in a room where his mother might 
overhear him, and improvised a fervent prayer that her 
eyes might be opened to see he was not the culprit. Of 
course she believed him, — the pious young fraud. No 
doubt he'll victimize Miss Langtry.” 

“Mr. Moran,” asked the Professor, turning around 
in his walk, “ did you read that wonderful account in 
the paper of the exodus of birds in Ohio ? ” There- 
upon he proceeded to give a lengthy discourse on the 
habits of birds, to which Modoc contributed his share. 
The Miss McBeens ^vere much interested and took 
mental notes of all that was said on the subject ; in- 
deed, the Modoc would have furnished them nu- 
merous and startling items from his own imagination 
had not the Professor stood ready to correct and con- 
vict him of any unwarrantable assertion connected with 
natural history. 

At length, after a long walk over meadows and 


A MIDSm/MEE EIVEESION. 


159 


tliroiigh by-lanes, the shouts of children and the flutter 
of dresses informed them that they had reached the 
selected rendezvous, — a pretty glade, Avith a Avild ra- 
vine on one side, through Avhich tumbled a swift moun- 
tain stream, over huge boulders, shaded by lofty trees, 
tlieir branches nearly meeting overhead. One of these 
streams, like the heaven-born nursling, who — 

“ Scorns beneath the firs to creep, 

Or hemmed by narrow mountain walls to flow, 

But tumbles headlong down the rocky steep, 

And loams along the pebbly vale below.’’ 

Here and there Avere holloAved “ Diana’s Baths ” in the 
Avet, Avorn rocks ; and again, the brook Avould take a 
leap, and plunge from some steep ledge thirty feet to 
banks of moss and fern below. As the pedestrians en- 
tered the cool wood, they found the party variously 
disj)ersed in shady dells; on moss-covered seats, or un- 
der gi*and old trees, Avhere the white birch Avhispered 
its ghostly secrets to pine and hemlock. 

Moran felt the beauty of the scene, and recalled 
Lowell’s apostrophe to his favorite tree : — 

“ Thou art to me like my beloved maiden, 

So frankly coy, — so full of trembly confidences.” 

He caught sight of Avis standing by the bank of the 
stream Avith Algernon by her side, Avho Avas already 
fishing. The latter had bought out a small boy’s st(;ck 
of bait for a broken jack-knife and a brass finger-ring, 
and was eagerly’' testing his new purchase. 

Miss Brown, Avith a number of other ladies, stood by 
Mrs. Langtry’s side engaged in an animated conversa- 
tion. The bonnet strings of the latter Avere flying ; she 


160 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES, 


was evidently agitated with heat and the excitement ol 
responsibility. 

‘‘ Oh, here you are ! ” she called, as Moran was about 
to descend the slope to join Avis. I’m glad you’ve 
come, — we’ve been waiting for you. Now, the first 
thing to do is to make a fire, and begin to cook the 
chicken and corn.” 

Bless me, Modoc, do you suppose she means we are 
to do it?” exclaimed Moran, turning back and address- 
ing his friend with surprised indignation. 

That’s just the programme ! You are going to be 
put through a regular course of cookery. To-niglit 
you’ll look back on this day as the ‘ maddest, merriest 
day of all the glad new year,’ — at least, it will be the 
maddest. Whew! it’s hot! and what a noise, — we’re 
in for it ! ” 

‘‘ But I don’t know anything about such things,” 
cried Moran in consternation ; I never cooked any- 
thing in my life but a Welsh rarebit. I suppose I can 
assist, but you’ll have to take the lead. What an abom- 
inable picnic ! ” 

Well, I’ll be a bounding gazelle,” replied Modoc. 

Here I am, at your service, Mrs. Langtry,” he cried, 
springing in front of that lady with such a bound and 
shout as made her jump back in alarm. “ Cliief cook 
and forager ! Where will you have the fire. Miss 
Brown? Boys, girls, — hither, thither! Now, away 
to the merry greenwood, and bring me something to 
make the witch-fire and keep the pot boiling. Miss 
Brown, will you stand guard and see that I do not 
^brew double toil and trouble, ’in my witches’ caul- 
dron?” 

While shouting, talking, laughing, this energetic 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION, 


161 


young man had pulled off his coat, and with a small 
hatchet was hewing limbs and dragging brushwood to 
a tall maple in a low dell, under whose shade he built 
his fire and hung a black pot for corn. 

In the meantime Mrs. Langtry kept Mr. Moran busy 
as well as the rest of those around her. Some were 
engaged in spreading the table-cloth and placing the 
contents of baskets and hampers ; others garnished the 
whole with leaves and ferns. 

‘‘Mr. Moran,” she remarked, “if that talkative cook 
is ready, I think you may fry the potatoes.” 

Moran groaned as a fvying-pan was thrust into his 
hand, but was relieved from that duty when Miss 
Brown discovered he was applying more butter, with a 
stick, to the outside than the inner surface. He threat- 
ened to be a hopeless failure in the way of assistance, 
and disconsolately looking about to discover Avis’ posi- 
tion, he perceived her surrounded by a flock of fright- 
ened children, w^ho screamed at the gradual approach 
of a formidable-looking bear. 

Algernon, with an old buffalo robe thrown over him, 
was plunging and growling at a fearful rate in the 
bushes, and Avis had difficulty in calming the panic- 
stricken little throng. 

“ Excuse me a moment, Modoc,” called out Moran ; 
“ I must assist Miss Langtry yonder. She is not equal 
to the control of that young rascal, who is creating 
such terror.” So saying, he ran to the covert, picked 
up the two-legged bear so unceremoniously, buffalo 
robe and all, that the boy thought a lion certainly had 
seized him. Moran deposited his struggling prey quickly, 
but firmly, in an open space, stripped of disguise, and 
left him with a sharp reprimand. 


162 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES, 


Algernon shook himself, and finding no bones broken, 
ran swiftly out of the sight of his ridiculing companions. 

‘‘I cannot leave him alone,” exclaimed Avis; ‘‘he 
will get into more mischief. I must coax him back with 
me, and give him something to do, away from the other 
children.” 

Moran sighed; he saw this beautiful day slipping 
away without any private conversation, and every mo- 
ment seemed precious ; now she suggested fastening 
this irrepressible boy to her side for the remainder of 
tlie time, — it was too much. However, if he wished 
to aid her, there was nothing to be done but bribe the 
ubiquitous urchin to accompany them. It was poor 
policy : he took the opportunity to inform the children 
he was appointed tlie sole distributor of the basket’s 
contents, and “ there were lots of cakes and candies,” 
which remark acted like a match thrown upon powder, 
and excited them to come up in a body and insist upon 
their rights. 

Finally Mrs. Langtry announced that “ she believed 
all things Avere ready, and Algy, like a Avinged Mer- 
cury, summoned the scattered merry-makers to the 
feast. The entertainment could not be said to be an en- 
joyable one to Moran. To a man of his neat and orderly 
luibits, the confusion did not conduce to a favorable im- 
pression of picnics. There was the usual amount of 
spiders and insects on the ground.; the usual amount of 
hot colfee poured out in libations to the table-cloth and 
on the participants of the feast; attempts to balance 
one thing on his knee, Avhile passing another, he dis- 
covered to be eminently unsuccessful ; and the contents 
of a sardine box distributed on his coat made it a day 
long to be remembered. Children and remnants of the 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION. 


163 


feast having become an indiscriminate compound, he 
rose from the repast, only to be told that the last act in 
such a drama was to count the spoons — the only solace 
that Avis assisted him in that blissful domestic pastime. 

Modoc had not been seen for some time ; every one 
was wondering what had become of his restless spirit, 
when he suddenly appeared at a distance in the open- 
ing Avood, coming down the Avinding forest path, at the 
head of a band of Avandering minstrels. He seemed to 
have forgotten his dislike for processions, for the musi- 
cians followed each other and him in Indian file, Avith a 
grand flourish of instruments, and, had they all been 
dressed in Lincoln green, Modoc might have repre- 
sented Robin Hood and his merry men. 

The children Avere uproarious with delight at the 
sound of the music, and hovered about them like so 
man}^ Avood-elves, Avhile Mrs. Langtry declared, “Music 
in the forest Avas so charming, she was sure they could 
never have enough.” 

When it did end, even she declared herself tired out, 
and contentedly sat doAvn to rest by the Professor’s 
side. The Modoc withdrew Avith a circle of admirers 
to the stump of a tree ; enthroned upon that he kept 
them amused by comic songs and absurd stories for a 
long time. 

Even the Professor could not repress a smile as he 
heard them, and remarked to his Avife, “That young- 
man has a vein of satire that reminds me of Juvenal.’' 

“That young man has a gift for foolish nonsense that 
I have never seen equaled,” replied she, quickly. “It’s 
my belief he’s nothing more nor less than a Aviid Indian 
— a little tamed. Look at him, flourishing that stick 
like a maniac ! That reminds me, now that we are 


164 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


alone, I want to speak to you, Ezra, about something 
Eve had on my mind a long time. Have you noticed 
anything particular lately ? ” 

The Professor was accustomed to his wife’s tragic 
air, even on slight occasions, and took a quiet sort of 
amusement in noting her interest in trifles ; he was 
therefore not alarmed at her solemn tone, but rubbed 
his forehead, and responded: ‘‘•Noticed anything? why. 
I’ve noticed a great many things, my dear. I hope you 
don’t think I’m blind. Here at our feet is a colony 
of ants, who are preparing to emigrate, I notice, be- 
cause — ” 

“ It’s of a great deal more consequence than any of 
those detestable ants or uncles,— it’s about our own 
daughter, Ezra Langtry, — have you noticed her?” 

“ Indeed I have,” cried the Professor heartily, with 
fatherly pride. “ She grows more lovely every day ; 
but” — a new thought appearing to strike him — “you 
don’t mean she’s ill, Jane? The consumption — or 
anything like that?” visions of hectic flushes as symp- 
toms of disease vaguely forming in his mind. 

“ Ezra, I mean that our child is in love.” 

“Oh, is that all?” said the Professor, laughing; 
“why, I hope she’s in love Avitli a great many — you 
and me particularly.” 

“ This is no laughing matter, Ezra. When young 
men admired her, and became devoted in their atten- 
tions, it was different, since she did not encourage 
them, even if they declared they should die if she 
did not accept their hand and fortune, — like that poor 
German Count von Stein, and the Italian who followed 
us through Italy. Really, I thought he would kill him- 
self, he made such a time when you told him he should 


A 3fIDSr7M3fEIi DIVEI^SWN. 


165 


not see Avis again ; hut, you see, she did not care for 
one of them all ; but now — she has not said a word to 
me, but a mother’s heart is quick to feel, Ezra, — I fear 
her affections are enlisted.” 

The Professor was awed by his wife’s superior dis- 
cernment, and eagerly inquired if she thought the 
Modoc was the man. 

‘‘ Modoc ! that heathenish young fellow ! Ezra Lang- 
tr}^ have you gone crazy ? Our Avis tlie wife of that 
undisciplined creature ! No ; it is Mr. Moran.” 

“ Moran ! Moran ! ” The Professor looked about in 
a dazed sort of a way, as if he could not connect the 
two ideas. “’Moran, — why, has he ever been attentive? 
He is much older than Avis, isn’t he, and where did 
she ever see much of him ? ” 

“ There ! did n’t I say you were as blind as a bat 
about everything but insects? Were they not together 
two weeks at Mon tank, and did n’t he come on here on 
purpose to see her ? And has n’t he been at her side 
ever since ; and is n’t there a different look in her eyes, 
and a different tone in her voice, whenever he’s near 
her? Does she ever seem tired of his society? Ah, 
I have my eyes open now, although at first I must con- 
fess I did not think of it.” 

The Professor stared at these revelations poured down 
upon him, and then a fatherly and protecting instinct 
led him to enquire about his business, family, and habits. 
To all of these subjects Mrs. Langtry answered with 
full particulars. 

‘‘Do you suppose he has really proposed?” asked 
the Professor. 

“ I don’t know. Avis takes her own time in telling 
her secret ; but I should liot be surprised if it was so.” 


166 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


‘‘ Then it’s quick work ! I didn’t propose to you for 
two years after I met you ! ” 

“Well, it was your own fault!” replied his wife 
tartly. “ You might have had an answer long before, 
if 3^ou had asked for it ! Yes ; I’ve planned this picnic 
just to suit them. I knew they wanted to be together, 
and have a pleasant day ; since we all leave the moun- 
tains so soon, and everything has gone off beautifully. 
I know just how to manage an affair of this kind : the 
main thing is to have it lively.” 

While Mrs. Langtry was thus entertaining the Pro- 
fessor, and the Modoc held the attention of most of the 
company, Mr. Moran thought possibly his opportunity 
also had arrived. Comparative silence had fallen upon 
them since the tumult of the feast and the departure of 
the band. The hushed stillness seemed provocative of 
confidences : — 

The grey stems rise, the branches braid 
A covering of deepest shade ; 

Beneath these old inviolate trees, 

There comes no stealthy, sliding breeze 
To overhear their mysteries : ’’ 

Only, afar off they could discern the faint voice of the 
water-fall — a cooling, lulling, enticing voice — to which 
Moran added his own persuasions, that Avis should 
yield to its silvery invitations and accompany him to 
its banks. As they advanced over mossy logs, and 
down into ferny dells, the sweet woodland odors fill- 
ing their blood with new life and delicious energy, 
the gleam of the white waters through the green foli- 
age ever beckoning them onward, the practical, critical 
world for a time far away, forgotten and unreal — this 
it seemed to them was the true life— the ideal life — to 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION. 


16T 


wander on, hand in hand, sympathies in common, 
nature protecting, difficulties overcome together, and 
their goal — the beautiful just beyond. They reached 
the stream, and stood for a moment to admire its course ; 
far up above them, through the shaded wood, hedged 
in by banks of dense undergrowth, came the mountain 
cascade, leaping with white feet over steps paved with 
green,” only stopping to take breath where a fallen tree, 
lying across its path, forced it to circle in amber-colored 
pools and mossy recesses. A pretty brown thrush on a 
long branch near by dipped and swayed in the spray 
cast over it, apparently in an ecstasy of delight, now and 
then casting an affectionate glance of approval at its 
human companions, with its head perched on one side. 
This sense of seclusion — this blessed soothing quietude, 
was suddenly broken, by the sight of a small figure fly- 
ing towards them, and a shrill little voice crying out : — 

‘‘Oh, there you are. Miss Langtry ! I am so glad 
you’ve come down to the water ; I want to go in wad- 
ing.” 

“ No, indeed, Algy, you must not,” said Avis. “ The 
rocks are so wet and slippery I am afraid you might 
tall in, and the current is strong.” 

“ Well, they are not so slippery farther up.” 

“ I don’t think you had better go in at all to-day, 
Algy. Remember, you have a cold and we shall soon 
be going home.” 

“ Would you like to try my new fishing rod, with 
the red fly?” interposed Moran, willing to sacrifice a 
good deal if tlie lad would only keep away. “ It is up 
there on the hill, near the baskets.” 

“ Well — I don’t know — I’ll look at it ! ” responded 
the amiable youth as he disappeared in the wood. 


168 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


Moran assisted Avis to a resting place beneath a 
giant pine, where a gnarled trunk formed a natural 
chair, and the pine needles made a soft rug for her 
feet. 

‘‘ This is really comfortable,” as he threw himself 
down on a cushion of moss. The first peaceful hour 
I’ve had since morning ! ” 

“ Yes ; we have had a great deal of peaceful pleasure 
with our books and sketches,” replied Avis ironically. 

A series of comic illustrations could alone have done 
justice to the scenes. Modoc seems to have been in his 
element — not even the heat can diminish his energy 
and spirits. The temperature must have been remark- 
able to-day! Perhaps it is one of those ^summers 
whose blushes sweep the face of earth.’ ” 

Then in this spot summer must have resembled the 
lobster in hue ; turmoil and cooking must have made 
her head whirl,” Moran remarked emphatically. 

What a beautiful simile — and how elegant 1 ” com- 
mented Avis, much amused. Perhaps this quiet re- 
treat wdll restore your composure. What a happy 
thought that was of yours to suggest tlie fishing rod to 
my charge ; it requires ingenuity to supply employ- 
ment to his energetic nature ! ” 

Yes ; I hope he is safely disposed of, for some time. 
Did 3^ou admire my efforts in cooking ? I burnt my fin- 
gers nearly to a blister.” 

I think they were rather spasmodic ; evidently you 
had ‘greatness thrust upon you.’ ” 

“ The frying-pan, you mean, I suppose ? I might 
have acquitted myself more honorably if my thoughts 
had not been elsewhere — you persisted in going off 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION. 169 

with that child, and I was just wondering where you 
could have disappeared — ” 

“ There ! Can that be Algy now, do you think ? ” as 
they heard shouts below them. ‘‘I am afraid he is in 
some trouble ! ” 

“Of course! I wonder what else can happen,” 
thought Moran, gloomily. “That boy was born to 
trouble us — that’s what we brought him for, I sup- 
pose. I was just getting on to that subject, but I 
knew I’d never have a chance to finish ; oh, no, not if 
I did it by telegraph I This plan of Modoc’s succeeds 
admirably!” 

The shouts certainly came from Algeron, who now 
appeared in full view with pants rolled up, skipping 
towards them on the rocks in the center of the stream. 

“ I thought I could do it. Miss Langtry ! ” he called 
in triumph ; “ the rocks aint slippery a bit ; and I don’t 
want to fish anymore.” 

“ Go back, Algy, do go back ! ” cried Avis in alarm ; 
for just below was a place where the current was very 
strong, and swirled over a precipitous ledge into a 
nari*ow chasm beyond. 

“ Oh, I aiiit afraid ! I like it! See me jump ! Hur- 
rah ! ” 

But in his excitement Algeron skipped once too 
high — lost his balance, and down he plunged into the 
water. The rocks being wet, it was no easy matter to 
regain his foothold, and perceiving the current bearing 
him along swiftly, he screamed in despairing tones : 
“ Oh ! save me, — I’m drowning ! ” 

Miss Langtry, terrified, held out a long branch to the 
boy, but he failed to catch it. Moran quickly swung 


170 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


himself out on a stout limb, just over the child, and as 
he swept past grasped liim by his waistband and landed 
him, dripping, on the bank by his side. 

“There!” he exclaimed; “young man, see if you 
can remain quiet a few moments! ” 

“ Really,” sighed Avis, “ I believe we shall be obliged 
to take him home immediately ; he is thoroughly wet, 
and may take cold.” 

Mr. Moran’s looks, as he eyed the subdued figure of 
the boy before him, whose spirit had wholly departed, 
evinced that his indignation still overpowered his sym- 
pathies, but he only remarked in response, that “ of 
course that was all could be done with him now.” He 
took him by the shoulder and walked him about briskly 
to encourage warmth until the wagons were made ready, 
and then muffled in shawls, and the useful buffalo robe, 
Algernon was deposited like some nondescript furry ani- 
mal on a seat in their midst. 

As Mrs, Langtry had foretold, “she kept it lively.” 
Some of the children were tired, and tlierefore cross ; 
some of the young people were merry, and therefore 
noisy ; some were the victims of the tender passion, 
and therefore vexed at the general clamor, desiring 
more opportunity for sentiment ; but nothing could equal 
the complacency of Mrs. Langtry’s mind, in view of 
her animated picnic. 

“ Was it not fortunate,” she exclaimed, “ that just as 
we were getting a little dull, that band of musicians 
gave us something to attend to at the right time ? ” 

Moran, for one, did not respond to this sentiment. 
The day had been so utterly spoilt for him ; he had 
hoped and planned so much from it; and this seemed 
his last opportunity. On the morrow he had an en- 




171 


gageinent that would occupy his time all day, aud the 
vacation he had allowed himself was all too quickly 
almost past. No wonder he could not view his disap- 
pointment in an amusing light. ‘‘ Oh, Lady Fortune, 
stand 3^ou auspicious ever?” he soliloquized. Yes, of 
course he might write; but — oh, what tame wooing I 
He wanted to look in her face, and read his answer 
there; to hear the tones of lier voice — sweeter aud 
dearer than words, should it be as he wished. Oh, 
miserable day, that might have been so satisfying! 
Oh, officious j)eople — how detestable I 

Avis, too, had indulged in bright anticipations of the 
liours that should give her the society of Mr. Moran, 
unmolested and alone. She no longer disguised from 
herself the fact that his presence had a peculiar charm 
which others failed to possess. With him she felt a re- 
pose and confidence which to her tender nature was 
happiness in itself. She diyined that he had intended 
this little excursion should result in a more definite un- 
derstanding, and therefore she could appreciate his cha- 
grin and disgust. Filial affection prevented any reflec- 
tions upon her mother’s conduct, but she began to feel 
‘‘the Fates” were persistently adverse. The restless 
Algernon had been anything but a joy and sunbeam, 
and as they reached home in the dusk of the evening, 
and she placed that jewel in his mother’s arms, she men- 
tally resolved never to borrow her treasure again. 


172 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


VII. 

“ Heaven’s marriage^ring is round the earth — 

Shall I wed thee 

a late breakfast, sauntering out leisurely upon 
tlie piazza, Avis was surprised to see a pretty little 
pony-carriage and horses standing before the entrance, 
evidently awaiting the advent of some one. The only 
occupant at present was a coquettish little blonde, with 
a jaunty hat perched upon a mass of fluffy curls, which 
partly concealed the blue eyes, and rendered still more 
piquant the laughing mouth and nez retrousse* This 
combination of dainty muslin, ribbon and bov^s tossed 
the reins with an airy grace while exchanging badinage 
with a few acquaintances standing near. To the amaze- 
ment of Avis, Mr. Momn came out of the house and 
took the vacant seat in the carriage, and merrily they 
drove away ; the gay little horse-woman evidently on 
very good terms with her companion. 

“ Who can she be ? ” wondered Avis. I was not 
aware he had any other acquaintances in the vicinity.” 

She hardly acknowledged to herself that the thought 
of her devoted friend becoming the sole recipient of 
that coquettish little blonde’s smiles and flatteries for 
hours ; of his being whirled off in this fashion, no one 
knew where, engaged in such an inspiring tete-d-tete as 
the position aftbrded, was not agreeable food for medi- 
tation. She returned to her room, determined to ban- 
ish misanthropical reflections by w^orking up a new sub- 
ject on her easel. Suddenly the door opened and her 


A MWSC/MMER DIKERSION. 


173 


mother entered evidently overcharged with the excite- 
ment of some matter; her cap-strings were flying and 
lier lips compressed. Hastily closing the door, she ex- 
claimed in a suppressed voice, while her eyes flashed 
indignation, — 

"‘Avis, did you know that Mr. Moran has just driven 
off with that Mrs. Chester?” 

“ Yes, I saw them,” quietly replied her daughter, not 
raising her eyes. ^"Who is Mrs. Chester?” 

Why, that dreadful widow who was here last sum- 
mer, and made herself conspicuous by attentions to Mr. 
Moran, — don’t you know anything about it? No! I 
dare say you don’t. People that live in the clouds never 
know if the earth quakes under their feet. Old Mrs. 
Hawkeye, who sits on the piazza all day, and notices 
everybody, told me all about it. She knew exactly 
liow many drives he had taken with her, and when they 
went, and when they returned. You see Mrs. Chester 
was with a party he knew at the hotel, and so he Avas 
constantly invited to their picnics, and she would al- 
ways come in that phaeton of hers, looking as smiling as 
sunshine, and wearing hats far too young for her, and 
take him oft to join in excursions. She never seemed 
to care for remarks that might be made ; no doubt she 
drove her husband into an early grave by her conduct. 
Mrs. Hawkeye tells me she was always just the same 
gay, fashionable flirt ; and since her husband’s death 
has left her free, she is more fond of admiration than 
ever. I should think a sensible person, like Mr. Moran, 
would see through her affectations ; but men are so 
foolish — blind as moles, I tell your father.” 

"" Gossip is very apt to be unjust,” responded Avis ; 
“ and you know the distances here are of such length, 


174 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


niiy one is glad to avail themselves of a ride to over- 
come them.” 

Althougli she thus excused the departure of the gen- 
tleman in question, she was far from feeling as comfort- 
al)le in regard to it as she wished her mother to imag- 
ine. Why had he never mentioned Mrs. Chester, or 
the possibility of seeing her in the mountains ? He had 
s])oken of all other acquaintances in the vicinity, — Avhy 
liad he ignored the 2>i'esence of this, apparently the 
most fascinating one? Could the widow be the “pretty 
charmer ” to Avhom that postscript alluded? Involun- 
tai ily she felt a dislike arising in her mind towards tliat 
bright, laughing face, and all that airy mass of fashion- 
able decoration that distinguished the widow’s appear- 
ance. Sincere and straightforward herself, she was in- 
tolerant of all the coaxing devices, the studied looks 
and poses, that seemed so artless, yet that lured so well ; 
the smiles and flattering words that rendered an idol- 
ized self at once so gracious and so bewitching, no mat- 
ter at Avhat cost to truth and justice. What more artis- 
tic employment than to drape themselves as characters 
of goodness and naivetS., then exhibit the models for 
admiration. Avis reflected that at this moment tlie 
Avidow Avas probably flashing eloquent glances into tlie 
face of the man beside her, and she Avas also noted for 
her Avit and audacity. 

“ Were there not enough men of similar tastes in her 
own circle Avho had no hearts to injure, and Avho Avore 
I olished Aveapons of defense equal to her OAvn, upon 
Avliom to lavish her coquetries, that she should select a 
staid, sensible man, like John Moran, as a target. Alas ! 
il was these very steady, sensible men who Avere soonest 
beguiled.” And was it indeed as she feared? Was 


A 3fWS[/MM£7i DIVERSION. 


175 


Mr. Moran faltering in his allegiance, and had the 
widow serious intentions ” ? 

It had been on tlie previous morning that Mrs. Ches- 
ter, returning from a ride, had accidentally encountered 
Mr. Moran walking leisurely ; after expressing her sur- 
prise at meeting him, she insisted upon his accepting an 
invitation to a sort of picnic to be held the following day. 
As old and intimate friends were to be of the party he 
could not well refuse, and at parting she had added : 
“ Most of the gentlemen will go early to fish, and the 
rest join them later, when we all unite to eat a trout 
dinner. You are off the line of rendezvous, and I will 
therefore take you in on my way over — so you see you 
cannot escape. You need not try to frame any excuse 
at the last moment.” With a mischievous nod and a 
laughing “ au revoir^^ she touched her pony with the 
whip, and the little phaeton w'as soon out of sight. 

An amused smile curved his lips, as Moran continued 
his walk ; he felt indebted to Mrs. Chester for many 
pleasant social hours, which she had enlivened by her 
grace and lively repartee ; but she had never gained a 
hold upon his feelings, and now’, although diverted by her 
sprightly manners, he felt annoyed that the time re- 
maining for enjoyment of Avis’ society should be even 
slightly abridged. 

In truth the gay widow did intend to take up the 
little affair where it had ended the previous summer. 
Siie had perceived that Mr. Moran, though undemon- 
strative, could detect and admire the beautiful, both in 
nature and women, with a quiet appreciation which had 
a subtile charm from one who rarely paid compliments 
or uttered stereotyped expressions. The very fact that 
ie observed and felt her beauty and wit, but would go 


17G 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


no farther, piqued her to make him acknowledge her 
power. His perfect sincerity and independence, com- 
bined with infinite tact and gentlemanly manners, made 
Mrs. Chester render him homage as superior to all she 
knew. Her thoughts had treasured his words and looks 
far more sacredly and persistently than the world would 
have credited to her superficial nature. 

On this sweet, inspiring morning, with the spirited 
pony dashing over uphill and down, the wind tossing 
her light curls and reanimating her eyes, she settled 
back in the luxurious seat with a comfortable sense of 
enjoyment, and demanded of her companion, in a pi- 
quant tone, if he ‘‘really had intended to ignore his 
former friends that summer ? 

“Not at all, Mrs. Chester, — you must know that; 
but I have not been here long, and I had no idea you 
were in the vicinity.” 

“And had you no curiosity to inquire about your 
neighbors, — who the ‘ incomers ’ might be ? One’s best 
friend might be boarding at the next house, and no 
placard would announce the fact, unless one took a 
little pains to ascertain. Have you forgotten how fre- 
quently you used to suggest this benevolent aim as the 
object of our pleasant drives last summer? ” 

“ No, indeed ; I should be most ungrateful could I 
suffer the memory of those ‘ tours abroad,’ as you used 
to call them, to remain unrecalled. I should have 
missed half the enjoyment of Keene Valley, but foi 
them ; but the fact is, I have been out on a camping- 
party lately with a scientific gentleman and some of \iU 
friends, and of course that took up considerable time, 
and you see I was out of the way of news.” 

Moran congratulated himself upon the happy thought 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION. 177 

which gave sucli a satisfactory account of his employ- 
ments and pursuits. 

The widow, however, immediately attacked that 
point: ‘‘^Was that the camping - party that Were 
drenched by the rain, and obliged on account of it 
to break camp and return home ; it included a Profes- 
sor Langtry, did it not ? 

Moran mentally groaned at the accurate knowledge 
tlius displayed, and answered cautiously that “ it was 
the same.” He wondered how much more she knew of 
the Professor and his party, and dreaded her incisive 
questioning* 

‘^Oh, then,” she replied, “I have heard all about it, 
for the chief ‘guide ’you employed is the son of the 
farmer with whom we board ; he gave me a full ac- 
count of it some time ago. Why, let me think, — and 
she knit her pretty brows in thought a moment, then 
flashed upon him a look of penetrating intelligence that 
spoke volumes, — “ the party only camped out five days, 
and you said, I believe, that you came to Keene Valley 
about two Aveeks ago, — five from fourteen leaves — a 
great many days for rest 5 but — ah, I see — you need 
not explain farther I I believe I understood there were 
some very pretty young ladies staying at ‘ the Maples,’ 
only, you see, you should have been frank about it, and 
not attempt to conceal facts from an old friend.” 

In spite of his protestations, he Avas subjected for the 
next half hour to a running fire of mischievous raiiery, 
with now and then a random shot Avhich touched the 
truth most cleverly. Throughout the remainder of the 
day she provoked him to laughter Avith her merry sal- 
lies of wit and fun ; she teased him, she flattered him ; 
appealed to his innate chivalry, and begged his advice 


178 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


ill most persuasive contrition, but was secretly in a 
fever of curiosity to discover the particular attraction 
that had kept him from her side. He was interested in 
spite of himself, and, man -like, was disposed to view 
her follies very charitably. 

She determined that day’s engagement should be suc- 
ceeded by another, and before the party separated she 
had managed so well that a visit to a celebrated view 
was arranged for the morrow. 

Mr. Moran pleaded his lack of time as an excuse for 
refusing to accompany them, but having incautiously 
acknowledged that the time of his departure was not 
fixed and that he had never seen the natural curiosity 
in question, the united entreaties of his friends finally 
prevailed upon him to give an unwilling consent. Mer- 
rily rang out the voices of the pleasure-seekers as they 
exchanged good-nights just beneath the window of the 
room occupied by Miss Langtry. She heard the tones 
of the widow raised in laughing protestation, and the 
words: ‘"I shall come for you to-mori‘ow — so be sure 
you are ready,” and the answer, in his full, mellow 
voice, ‘‘ Yes, I will not keep you waiting a moment.” 

So another day of pleasure was planned, and the 
widow was again to be his companion. Evidently he 
was well pleased, or he would not have accepted a sec- 
ond invitation. 

A miserable, dull ache settled at her heart, and pride 
and love rose in revolt, to whisper each its suggestions 
for her future conduct. Was he indeed discouraged by 
the perverse circumstances that had attended his woo- 
ing ? Pride answered, ‘‘ he were no true lover to be 
driven from the field.” Then, was he like Alliston, 
fond of sipping the sweets from every flower, and she 


A 3fIjDSCrM3f£:ii D/VUHS/OM 


179 


again too credulous of a man’s sincerity? Justice and 
love denounced the slander to her lionor and judgment, 
■and pleaded that the looks, the tones and words he had 
offered her in a hundred ways were love’s true evidence 
that his heart acknowledged no other queen. Arguing 
thus her case before the bar of her own judgment, she 
concluded at last with the forlorn little hope that the 
morrow might prove too unpleasant for an expedition, 
and so — fell asleep. 

The following morning, however, dawned bright and 
beautiful, and the glorious sunshine mounting peak and 
hilltop, and trailing over tiie fields of green a golden 
gauze that caught on bush and shrub ; each leaf seemed 
dipped in amber floods of light, and the deep red ber- 
ries of cherry and thorn gleamed like rubies in settings 
of emerald green. 

Avis wondered, as she looked with an artist’s eye at 
all this wealth of color, why her pulse did not quicken 
as usual in response to Nature’s gifts. She saw and 
appreciated, but enthusiasm for a time was dead, — a 
shadow lay on it all. 

Again the widow liad appeared with the pony phae- 
ton, and with Mr. Moran by her side, had disappeared 
out into the light and the sunshine, leaving the shadow 
I' with her. It was true he had come and stood by her 
side a few moments after breakfast, and his manner 
was as tender and earnest as ever, but there were the 
three Miss McBeens on one side of them, and her 
mother on the other, while Modoc and Miss Brown 
were pacing up and down in front, and, — what could 
be said under such circumstances ? Then again, it was 
not until Mr. Moran had gone that the Professor, in his 
usual decisive, abrupt way, announced that he had re- 


180 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES, 


ceived a letter by the evening mail which would oblige 
himself and family to depart the next morning early. 

Poor Avis. What chance remained of any more coy 
interviews, or even a few farewell words, now that they 
would probably be away before he well knew they were 
going. It was with a sad heart she packed away the 
sketches and trifling mementoes that served to recall the 
pleasant scenes they had enjoyed together that summer. 
Even the gushing lamentations of all the Miss McBeens 
over the Professor failed to interest her. 

Mrs. Langtry and Mrs. Hawkeye remarked it, how- 
over, and confided to each other their conviction that it 
was most providential the Professor was to be taken 
away. 

‘‘I feel as if there were snares set for his feet,” said 
Mrs. Langtry, with a solemn shake of her head. 

They are really very fond of him, you may depend 
on that,” whispered the elderly gossip. ‘‘A distinguished 
man like your husband, my dear, is very fascinating to 
such clever young women ! Did you ever notice which 
one he seemed to fancy most ? ” 

Oh, they are all alike to him,” rejoined Mrs. Lang- 
try, rising. ‘‘ To this day he can’t tell their Christian 
names apart. Do write me soon, and let me know when 
you can come to our Orphan Asylum.” 

Meanwhile, Mr. Moran had found the pretty widow 
as merry and piquant as ever. 

You are going to be much surprised this afternoon,” 
she remarked. ‘‘ You will meet an old friend.” 

‘‘Who is that?” 

“ I imagine you are not aware that Mr. Reynolds came 
to the Barracks last night. He said you and he were at 
Montauk together, so no doubt you know him well.” 


A MIDSt/MMJEH DIVERSION. 


181 


‘‘ I shall be delighted to see him. Are you much 
acquainted ? ” 

“ Well, somewhat ! ” and she pursed up her lips into 
a saucy and secretive expression. “ Is he a particular 
friend of yours ? ” 

“ No, not an intimate friend ; but he is a very good 
fellow, and IVe seen a good deal of him of late.” 

‘‘Well, I may as well tell you, John, I dislike him. 
It is very unpletisant, too, for me to see him here now. 
You see we met two years ago, and he was extremely 
attentive, so much so, that it occasioned a great deal of 
remark; and really — after a while, as it never could 
come to anything serious, — I was obliged to be very se- 
vere with the poor fellow. He was so persistent, you 
see ! Of course he felt it dreadfully, for he would have 
all, or nothing ; so we ceased to be friends even. Don’t 
you think he’s very dogmatic and dictatorial, yourself?” 

It flashed into Moran’s mind that he had heard some- 
thing like this story of a widow from Reynolds, in one 
of the desultory conversations held in “the den,” only, 
in Reynolds’ graphic version, it was the widow who had 
made the advances, and intimated a proposal. Still he 
remembered the closing sentences of his narration : 
“ Ask anything you wish. Jack, it shall be yours ! ” she 
had said, at the close of a long moonlight walk. He had 
craftily replied: “You are very kind, but I must not 
take advantage of your generous impulses.” “ I see, 
your lack of inclination is the difficulty,” with tears in 
her ej^es, and an angry bitterness in her voice. “ You 
do not care to take the prize when captured. Yes, I 
have been too generous, — I acknowledge the error, — but 
you, sir, do not appreciate the warm and sensitive feel- 
ings of a woman. I believe your heart is stone. Be- 


182 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES, 


lieve me, I shall not allow you a second opportunity, 
and so we may as well part, — not even friends.” With 
a sob, she had turned from him, and he had seen her no 
more. 

A dim remembrance of all this formed in the mind of 
Moran, but how absurd to think of Blanche Chester in 
connection with it. Yet how strangel}^ the stories co- 
incided. He would ask Reynolds about it again, some 
day. 

The little equipage soon brought them to the Hotel, 
and among the gay throng that extended them a Avel- 
come, Reynolds came forward Avith hearty good-Avill, and 
vigorously shook him by the hand. 

Thought I Avould get a breath of mountain air be- 
fore I settled down to Avork,” he exclaimed. ‘‘ Heard 
you Avere here, and Avas going to look you up, if oiir 
friend, Mrs. Chester, had not assured me you Avonld join 
in our excursion to-day. Hoav are our good friends of 
Montauk ? Is Miss — ” 

“Well! All very Avell! ” Moran made haste to re- 
ply, seeing Mrs. Chester suspiciously near. “ Will tell 
you all the ncAvs more at leisure.” 

Introductions followed ; compliments were exchanged, 
arrangements completed for a drive to the Falls. 

“ Blanche,” Avhispered a lady friend, as the former 
stood reaching up to draAV some roses doAvn to her that 
grew over the verandah, the light^ sleeve falling back, 
shoAving her Avell-rounded arm and small white hand, 
“ cannot you take Miss Summers with you in the phae- 
ton ? She has been an invalid so long, your cushioned 
seat Avould render the drive much less fatiguing, and 
there is plenty of room for all the others in the moun- 
tain Avagons.” 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION. 


188 


‘‘ No, indeed, Anna ! How can you think of such a 
thing ? Do you imagine I am going to be bored to death 
with a tiresome woman, when I want diversion myself? 
Why don’t she remain at home, if the ride is too severe. 
Invalids should not expect to attempt everything. No, 
you know I never pretended to be good and unselfish 
like you, my dear. I won’t go at all, if not in attractive 
company.” 

The friend sighed, and turned away. 

Blanche Chester, notwithstanding her sweet, dove- 
like air, was firm as a rock when her own interests or 
pleasures were to be preserved. Many of her admirers 
remarked that day how very pretty she looked poised on 
the slippery rocks of a brawling stream, with that 
startled, helpless appearance so bewitching, and so ap- 
pealing to all chivalry. The masculine fraternity rushed 
to offer assistance. Who but the initiated sisterhood 
knew that she was quite capable of guiding her own 
way, wdicn such assistance was not at hand. 

Mr. Moran discovered he had sufficient emploj^ment 
in aiding this airy personage up rocks, and down chasms, 
wherever her capricious fancy led her. 

“You do not think me a trouble, do you, John?” 
and the blue eyes looked up at him so anxiously and 
trustfully that he burst forth with many protests that lie 
was “enjoying himself immensely,” — he “wished the 
time prolonged,” &c. 

“ Is that really true, John ? How good and kind you 
are. Poor me. I am so timid, and Austin taught me to 
depend upon him so, I think he spoilt me. Since he 
died, I try to struggle on by myself, — and not tax 
others with my troubles, — but it is so hard — alone.” 
She drooped her head, and he saw the rosy lips tremble. 


184 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES, 


“ What tronhle should come to you, dear Blanche ? 
Surely no one could have the heart to harm you. Is 
there anything I can do ? ” 

‘‘ I was so afraid I might be infringing on the claims 
of some one else. Perhaps you wish to devote 3^0111* 
time elsewhere. Do you know, I was beginning to grow 
jealous of some incognita I heard of. Of course, I knew 
it could be nothing serious, or you would certainly tell 
me.” 

‘‘One never can believe eveiy silly report,” evaded 
Moran. “ Gossip grows out of such trifles. The air 
here is as full of whispered romances as the ruts of 
echoes. You and I even, will be talked over, I suppose, 
if we do not soon rejoin the others.” 

The poor invalid returned from the trip with a terrible 
nervous headache, and Reynolds exclaimed, as he saw 
her trying in vain to relieve the throbbing pain by vain 
applications of cologne and ammonia : — 

“ If you will allow me, Miss Summers, to try a simple 
remedy, I think I can remove your headache very 
quickly.” 

The lady thanked him, and expressed herself ready to 
adopt any means. 

“ Bring a glass of water,” said Reynolds ; “ and will 
Miss Summers be kind enough to take this chair, with 
her back to the light ? ” 

Placing a chair near a table, he dipped his fingers into 
the water, and began mesmeric passes over her brow. 
For a few moments he Avas allowed to continue the op- 
eration in silence ; then inquisitive questions showered 
down upon him. 

“ Did you ever put any one to sleep? ” cried one. 

“ Can you exert the influence over any one ? ” asked 
another. 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION. 


185 


‘‘ I do not believe in it, at all ! ” asserted Mrs. Chester. 
“No one could mesmerize me against my will. I believe 
it is all a liumbug ! ” 

Reynolds glanced up in a forcible manner, and fixed 
his piercing dark eyes upon her face. 

“ I could put you entirely under my influence in half 
an hour, Mi*s. Chester,” he quietly said. 

“ I am sure you could not. No one can make me do 
anything against my will ; besides, I have not the least 
particle of faith in it ! ” 

“ Faith or no faith. I’ll engage to make you as amen- 
able as a little child.” 

Mrs. Chester’s blue eyes flashed ; her cheeks flushed. 

“ I will prove before the company that you are too 
confident of your ability.” 

“ Let it pass, Blanche,” whispered Moran, “ you do 
not want a trial here.” 

“ Yes, here ! I will show him I am not so weak-headed 
as he appears to believe ! ” 

Many applauded her spirit, — declared it was a good 
diversion ; some were eager to gratify curiosity, and 
some secretly desirous that the confident spirit of either 
should be abased. 

Meanwhile, Miss Summers declared herself entirely 
cured. The pain had disappeared as if by magic. “ I 
believe you have a witchery in your fingers,” she laugh- 
ingly remarked. 

Some timid ones begged Mrs. Chester to relinquish 
her determination as having some connection with spirit- 
ualism, but slie resolutely took a seat in the same chair, 
with eyes glowing with stern defiance, and awaited tlie 
attack. Reynolds drew up a chair directly in front of 
her, and quietly taking the palms of her hands in his 


186 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES, 


own, fixed his eyes with a firm expression on lier face. 
Every feature on his own indicated indomitable will. 
Breathless the company awaited developments. . Five, 
ten, fifteen, twenty minutes passed, and no sound but 
the regular breathing of the actors. The spectators be- 
gan to weary, and imagine the affair a failure. Mrs. 
Chester still preserved her look of contempt ; Reynolds 
relaxed not his unbending gaze. Another five minutes 
passed — ten; the e3^elids of Mrs. Chester began to 
close, her head to droop, her chest rose and fell heavily. 
Five minutes more and she seemed too drowsy to move. 
Reynolds pushed back his chair, and, standing back, 
asked Mrs. Chester to come to him. She walked slowly 
to his side. ‘‘Put your hand in mine.” She did so. 
“ Bring me a book from yonder table.” She meekly 
obeyed. He silently willed her to leave the room ; she 
disappeared. He willed her to re-enter uncalled. The 
door opened and she reappeared. It was no illusion. 
All were obliged to confess that. The compaii}^ saw 
with their own eyes and proved it in many ways. At 
last they became alarmed lest this singular state of mind 
should continue. 

“Come, Reynolds,” said Moran, “we have had enough 
of this. I’m sure. We’re all convinced. Re-a waken 
Mrs. Chester, and throw off the influence.” 

“Very well,” said Reynolds. “I will do it immedi- 
ately.” 

Obedient to his will, Mrs. Chester took her seat, and 
he began a series of the usual “ passes.” After a while, 
her ordinary expression returned ; she seemed bright as 
ever; she rose from her chair, and said, laughingly, 
“There, I thought you could not do it! I was a little 
drows}^ for a time — that was all ! ” 


A MIDSmnfEE EIVEESIOiY. 


187 


‘‘ Do you remember nothing further ? ” uttered many 
voi(3es. ‘‘ Did you not walk in your sleep ? ” 

"‘Walk? Of course not, why should 1? I have not 
stiri*ed from the chair.” 

No one had the courage to tell her the true facts. A 
general movement to retire for the night was now mani- 
fest among the ladies, and the little company broke up, 
in some excitement, to hold whispered consultations 
among themselves. 

“ Reynolds,” said Moran, as they walked together in 
the shrubbery adjoining the house, finishing their last 
cigars, “ I did not half like your performance this even- 
ing upon Mrs. Chester. I do not understand the sub- 
ject very well, myself; but are you sure j^ou can totally 
throw off that influence at will ? ” 

“ I never should have attempted it if she had not so 
provokingly dared me. However, I think my power is 
all gone. To show you, I will ‘ will ’ her to come into 
this garden now, and you Avill see it is in vain.” 

They began a discussion of the phenomenon, but both 
were startled by hearing the closing of a door, and light 
footsteps on the gravel walk. There, in a loose white 
dressing gown, with hair unbound, was Blanche Chester, 
coming towards them. 

“For Heaven’s sake, throw off this subtle influence, 
Reynolds. It is a shame to expose her to remark,” 
cried Moran. 

“ Believe me, I had no intention of doing so,” hastily 
exclaimed Reynolds, as he went forward and endeavored 
gently to urge the fair widow to re-enter the house. 
But she could not be persuaded to leave him, and he 
was forced to go, too, and invoke some assistance. As 
the door closed upon them, Moran regretted keenly that 


188 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLTES, 


he had been even a spectator of the affair, and it was 
not until years afterward that he learned the romantic 
termination of that evening’s diversion. 

It was very late that same evening, when Modoc put 
his head into the room occupied by Moran, to enquire 
of that gentleman, who had just returned, how he had 
enjoyed the day. 

‘‘ Did you know,” he exclaimed abruptly, that the 
Langtrys and Browns are going home to-morrow ? ” 

“ No,” replied Moran, starting ; “ why didn't you 
tell me before ? Are you sure ? When do they leave ? ” 
“At break of day, they haste away, I understand, — 
but I supposed you knew all al out it. You don’t mean 
to say that subject hangs tire yet ! I imagined that you 
were already confidential adviser. The outer world 
were only informed of the Professor’s decision to-day, 
and I’ve been trying to keep up Miss Brown’s spirits 
ever since her mother proposed to take her off on the 
same tiain with the Professor’s family. Wish we were 
going too ! ” 

“We will! There is no reason why we should not. 
Indeed, I’ve been wanting to restore you to your 
mother’s care for some time. What’s the use of being 
bachelors, if we can’t pack our trunks in a hurry ? ” 
With that the two men threw off their coats with a 
rush, and with that celerity for which the masculine 
training is noted, made garments, books, boots, disap- 
pear within their traveling receptacles, in such a disor- 
derly mass as would have delighted the soul of a maniac, 
but occasioned wild despair to mothers and aunts. The 
main force of two stalwart men, and the set determina- 
tion to succeed, prevailed upon the clasps of trunks to 
meet in harmony, and the keys to turn responsively; and 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION. 


189 


jtlien — each man smiled complacently in the face of the 
j other, and shook hands with the finale, ‘‘ It is done ! ” 

The following morning the shades of night were still 
hovering over the valleys, and shrouding in early mists 
the hillsides, when the piazza was filled with cloaked and 
parcel-laden figures ; and many a fair form resigned its 
morning nap to speed the departing ones and send kind 
messages to those far away. Guides and farmers stood 
amiably waiting about, ostensibly for good-byes, but in- 
wardly hoping for more substantial remembrances. 

They were all at last in the wagons, and still the 
horses did not move. Avis glanced behind her, and 
observed two vacant seats. 

‘^For whom are we waiting?” cried the Professor. 
‘‘We are all here.” 

“No, sir,” replied the driver; “Mr. Moran and his 
cousin are yet to come ; ” and at the words those per- 
sonages emerged from the door-way, amid exclamations 
of surprise from all. 

“Yes, it is sudden,” answered the Modoc to the ques- 
tioners. “ But Socrates, or some other old heathen, 
says, ‘ Let action follow quick upon decision.’” He was 
in high spirits, and bade every one good-by from guides 
and farmers separately down to individual dogs and 
horses, assuring all he “ could not live and fail to come 
and see them all next summer.” 

Away then they started with many regretful glances 
at the scenes left behind them. The streams accom- 
panied them with many rippling adieux, now lost to 
sight, then reappearing under rustic bridges in unex- 
pected ways, as if loath to part company, Avhile the huge 
forms of the mountains were faintly discernible, grouped 
about, revealing their sorrow in misty tears. 


IQQ BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 

Away over the hills, and down the woody ravines ; 
the strong scent of pine and birch impregnating the air ; 
the wagons filled with merry people, playing a perpetual 
see-saw with each other ; now in view, on the height 
of a hill, — now, lost in the depths of a valley ; until at 
last the long ride was over, and the iron horse stood im- 
patiently waiting to convey them back to paved streets 
and the confused bustle of busy city life. 

Once safely disposed in the cars, with packages, bas- 
kets and fishing-rods duly placed, Mrs. Langtry drew a 
long breath, and declared she felt better ! ” Whether 
at the terminus of the journey, or at the presence of 
cinders and car-smoke, — or at the prospect of liome, re- 
mains undiscovered. 

Moran had managed to secure the seat by Avis’ side ; 
the Professor and liis wife were just in front of them, 
but they were no sooner arranged, than Mrs. Langtry 
espied a friend, an elderly lady, alone by a window. 
She was by her side at once, and Moran could see by 
her animated gestures that she was unfolding one of 
her hobbies, and also, by the accompanying nods, and 
varied facial expressions of her companion, that she had 
a sympathizing listener. 

Travelling always made the Professor drowsy ; so 
finding the seat vacated, he stretched himself out, and 
with a roll of lap-rugs for a pillow, was soon in the 

land of nod.” 

Fast sped on the rushing train, but ncft as fast as the 
moments to Moran. 

Perceiving the parents of Avis thus happily occupied, 
he turned to her and said: “Now that we are all com- 
fortable settled — homeward bound, will you be kind 
enough to tell me what unhappy inspiration seized you, 


A M/I)SC/MJf£E DIVERSION. 191 

to SO suddenly leave us to our own devices, without a 
word of warning ? ’’ 

Your own devices are the only ones to blame, Mr. 
IMoran,” answered Avis. ‘‘ If you had not been absent, 
you would have known yesterday, like the rest of our 
friends, what our intentions were. My father received 
a letter which obliged a speedy return.” 

‘‘ And do you include me also in the crowd, — called 
‘ rest of our friends ’ ? I hoped I had earned a little 
more confidence and regard ! ” 

I could not sup230se you Avould care for a difference. 
You appeared Avell entertained in other society.” 

““ Miss Langtry, you Avould not say that., if you .knew 
the fact, that 1 have delayed my return far beyond the 
time my business allows, for the simple hope of your 
company to New York. For the last two days, 1 have 
rendered a tribute to Auld Lang Syne, that was much 
against my inclination, I assure you, — that is, just at that 
time. Did you ever see Mrs. Chester? She is a charm- 
ing person, and the wife of an old classmate of mine. 
When his death left her unprotected, his last Avishes 
claimed my friendship and assistance for her, Avhenever 
needed. She is one of the best-hearted little Avomen in 
the world, and would go far to do a service for any one. 
That is the reason she lias taken a lazy felloAv like my- 
self over the country to meet some cousins Avho are 
staying at the ‘Barracks.’ ” 

He gallantly ignored the conviction that had found 
assurance in the past fcAv days, that Blanche Chester 
Avas inclined to merge all frieut'ship into something 
stronger. 

“ I wanted to see you yesterday morning,” he con- 
tinued, “and explain a few things, but I could not ob- 


192 BACHELOnS AND BUTTERFLIES. 

tain a glimpse of you — and then Mrs. Chester came and 
it was time to go — and then — presto ! the next thing I 
knew — you are off! I only learned the news in time 
to rush after in this very astonishing manner. I am sure 
you owe me some little consolation for the excuses I 
shall have to invent for inquisitive friends.” 

I do not know wliat amends I can make,”' replied 
Avis, softly. 

Do you not?” and she felt his voice tremble, and 
an undefinable sense of his nearness possessed her — “ I 
can tell you, — if you will listen. You must have 
guessed it ! Let me introduce you as my wife ; that will 
answer all questions. Will you, Avis — will 3"ou ? 
Dearest one, do you not know how sincerely I love you 
— how tenderly I will care for you. It is a love strong 
and true as any man can offer to the woman he holds 
best in the world. Can you return it ? ” 

For reply, Avis placed her hand in his, while her 
cheeks grew rosy red, and her eyes softened with a 
new light. For a few moments both were so lost in 
the beatific enjoyment of this situation that no words 
escaped them. Moran held fast the little hand in his, 
while an expression of complete rest and happiness 
illumined his features, then — he bent his head nearer, 
and whispered in an eager, apologetic tone : — 

You see, I could not wait longer, for if I had de- 
layed that question five minutes I am morally certain 
the cars would have run off the track, or the engine 
collided!” 

This prophecy had some justification, when, a few 
moments thereafter, the mound of parcels and rugs 
before them, upon which the Professor reposed, was 
dislodged by a jolt of the car, and came tumbling 


A MIDSUMMER DIVERSION, 19S 

down to the floor, nearly bringing the Professor with 
them. 

Mrs. Langtry hurried to the scene of action, and she 
and the Professor alternately bobbed for articles which 
had rolled off the seat for a full half hour afterwards. 

At Saratoga the train stopped for refreshments. Mo- 
doc, who was looking out of the window, suddenly ex-^ 
claimed , Why, there is Alliston ! ” 

Avis and Moran followed his indication, and saw 
Roger Alliston with a very haughty looking lady upon, 
his arm, evidently taking leave of two friends about to 
enter the car. Before his comrades from Montauk 
could manifest their recognition, the two ladies had 
taken the seat behind our happy lovers, and the train 
moved on. 

A rapid conversation, with forcible emphasis upon 
every three words, began between them. “Was it not 
a surprise to every one? ” one voice questioned in high 
tones. “ It was really so sudden at the last. You know 
she has flirted with every one for the last four seasons. 
Last year they declared she had accepted the Italian 
ambassador. Did you say she has only been engaged 
three days, and — it is just announced?” 

“ Yes, I believe so ; they say Miss Andrews and Mr.. 
Alliston are old friends ; they had some sort of quarrel 
long ago, — you know she has an ugly temper, — and 
they never were reconciled until he came on last week. 
Jennie Randolph says, he told Miss Andrews he had 
been pining away for her sake in some out-of-the-way 
place on Long Island, until he was too wretched to 
live ; but some say it was her fortune that attracted him. 
Well, he is so handsome no one can resist him; so 
they made it all up, although there are some rather hard 


194 


BACHELORS AND BUTTERFLIES. 


stories against him, and she will not endure much pro- 
vocation tamely. The wedding is to be in the fall.’’ 

“ It was BO kind in you, Mary, to procure me an in- 
vitation. It will be the affair of the season — twelve 
bridesmaids, you know, and an elegant reception, and 
Paris next winter.” 

Thereupon succeeded a minute discussion of arrange- 
ments. 

“ My own happiness makes me rejoice in all other 
marriages,” Moran murmured, as he pressed Avis’ hand, 
and she wondered if Alliston’s bride could possibly be 
as content as she. 

When the engagement was made known to the Modoc, 
that worthy remarked: “Been with her all summer, 
and then proposed on a railrord car after all. We did 
things better than that Fannie, did we not? ” 

“I am sure no one could accuse you of missing an 
opportunity,” replied that intelligent damsel, with saucy 
meaning. 

“ Yes, and to prove the assertion correct, I will write 
to Mr. Norris to prepare to officiate for us before I am a 
day older ! ” 



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American society story 30c. 

23. Old Nick’s Camp-Meetin’. Eugene Owl. 

Funny scenes of South-west frontier 50c. 

22. One Little Indian. Roy Maitland. Real 

life on the Indian Reservation 25c. 

21 . Vic. A. Benrimo. Humorous and dramatic. 25c 
20. Persia. Rambler. Story of the White 

Mountains and art-life 25c. 


19. Ninety-Nine Days. Clara R. Bush. Story o 

American boarding-house life i 

18. Spiders and Rice Pudding, S. G. Barbou, 

Quaint and sprightly love story ! 

17. How it Ended. Marie Flaacke. Story. 

with glowing scenes in the tropic Soiufil 
16. Bera. Stuart de Leon. Story, with vivitr 
pictures of real life in the North-west., i 
15. Glenrnere. Love versus wealth in the Nortl, 

west > 

14. Poor Theophilus. Contributor to Pud. 

Two stories -tragic and humorous i 

13. Only a Tramp. Author of “Alone,” efr. 

Picturesque story of tramp-life i 

12. Who Did It? Mark Frazier. Story of 

girl buried alive ./ 

11. Our Peggotties. Kesiah Shelton. Witii 
hits at the American “Help ” problem. .3 
10. Our Winter Eden. Mrs. Genl. W. S. Casj 

neau. Real life in Samana Island i 

9. Nobody’s Business. Author “ Dead Men 
Shoes.” The humorous phase of etfon.T 

to “ keep up appearances.” S 

8. Story of the Strike. Elizabeth Murry. 

Home scenes of city life. Illustrated... J 
7. Lily’s Lover. Romance of the Connecticut 

Valley 4 

6. Voice of a Shell. O. C. Auringer. Lyrics 

stories and songs of the Sea .: 

5. Rosamond Howard. Kate R. Lovelace. 

Story of a girl’s struggles to fame ^ 

4. Appeal to Moody. Lyrical satire on BrooM 
lyn politicians and New York editors... i 
3. Bonny Eagle. Sprightly sketch of a Vaca-' 

tion camp in New England hills i 

2. Prisons Without Walls. Kelsic Etheridge., 
“A strange, weird and marrowy story.”. 
1. Irene. Mrs. B. F. Baer. A prize story, favo' 
ably compared to Hawthorne’s romance . ; 


Bright and sprightly 
They deserve well oi 
Cheap, convenient. 




ii^cago Inf^Ocsm^ 

leading pltttlic^J^msiraiecZ Christian Weekly. 

, _ popular authors. — Epis. Methodist, Baltimore. 

Bright and breezy, and above all, pure in sentiment. — Boston Transcript. 

Breezy, bright little books, always unexceptionaly pure in sentiment.— Cmcmuafi Commercial, j 
Remarkably clever little books; just the thing for the country, watering places, hotel verandatj 
under the shade of sighing trees.— A. Y. Express. 

The brightest and best brief works by American authors who are well known to the reading pu’rt’ 
They have proved very popular, particularly as traveling companions.— Home Journal. 


IH^For sale by all Booksellers, and sent by mail post paid on receipt of price. 


W. B. SMITH k CO., Publishers, 27 Bond St., NewYorl 









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